


Meg's Secret

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a young girl walks into the consulate Meg knows her better than the girl knows herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Chicago Museum of Art ….** _

“Here we have the cubist movement, a period in art characterized by it's use of primary colors and solid shapes.” A pleasant sounding tour guide informed the group of high school students as they walked single file through the various rooms in the huge museum.

“Keep up Cara, it's almost closing time.” Henrietta Dolan, the female chaperone, prompted the sixteen year old who'd stopped to sketch one of the paintings.

“Yes, Ms. Dolan.” The petite girl's dark brown eyes did their best not to roll. The group of six, gifted students made their way on to the next room in the museum. Cara pulled on the strap of the brown leather backpack purse she wore over her navy sweater and pleated skirt. Half an hour later the group was ready to leave.

“Alright students, tell Miss Jones thank you for the tour.” In unison and without much enthusiasm, they thanked the young woman.

“Now, does anyone need to use the facilities before we leave the museum?” Ms. Dolan asked, mostly so she could use the restroom herself.

“I do, Ms. Dolan.” Cara spoke up.

“Alright, Mr. Beckley, I'll take the girls, you take the boys?” Ms. Dolan said, beginning to squirm. The older, balding chaperone simply nodded. He didn't mind watching the three boys, as long as the girls were around they boys would stick close, but Henrietta Dolan was a shrew.

The group made their way to the restrooms near the museum's entrance and split up. The ladies restroom was large, with six stalls and sinks. A reproduction of a Georgia O'Keefe painting hung on the wall between the stalls and the sinks. The wallpaper had been chosen to accentuate the painting.

All three girls and Ms. Dolan took a stall. Cara chose the one nearest the door after laying her sketch book on the sink counter. She swung her small, leather backpack off her shoulders and set it near the stall door. None of the girls gave it any thought when they heard the restroom door open, there had been other museum patrons as well as employees. Just as Cara had her skirt hitched up and her seat firmly planted on the commode, she saw a pair of tennis shoes walk close by her stall door. They stopped and someone bent over. Quicker than Cara could grab the backpack it was gone. The tennis shoe shod person had brown, jersey gloves on and gray, sweatshirt sleeves.

“Hey, bring my bag back!” Cara shouted as she struggled to get out of the stall without embarrassing herself. She tore out of the restroom after the thief but the glass fronted entrance was empty. There were too many people out front to see the thief. Ms. Dolan made it out after Cara.

“They took my bag, Ms. Dolan, it had my passport, ID and all my money in it.” Cara stamped her foot, her dark eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. A security guard in a gray uniform walked past and saw the group of students beginning to gather around a tall, salt and pepper haired woman with horned rimmed glasses on her long nose.

“Excuse me, Sir, but someone just ran off with her bag.” Ms. Dolan began walking toward the guard.

“Where at, Ma'am?” The forty-something guard stopped and put a pleasant expression on his face. He'd listened to this woman as she shepherded the students through the museum. He was glad he wasn't in her school.

“I was in the women's restroom over there.” Cara pointed back across the marble tiled expanse to the restroom off to the left of the front doors. “While I was busy in the stall, I saw a pair of tennis shoes then a hand wearing a pair of cloth gloves grabbed my bag. They disappeared before I could get out of the bathroom.” Cara explained, fuming at herself for setting the bag down in the first place.

“Let me call it in.” The guard pulled a radio from his belt and spoke into it. He sighed, tired. It was almost the end of his shift.

“Mr. Anderson is coming, he's calling the police right now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Keith.” Ms. Dolan read his name tag, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The other two girls exchanged amused glances. With her long nose and pointy chin, she looked like a Halloween witch.

“You all can have a seat on the benches if you'd like.” The guard pointed toward a row of three, black, metal benches along the entrance wall. Ms. Dolan and Mr. Beckley herded the teens toward the benches. Other than Cara there were two girls, Tiffany and Sabrina, as well as three boys, Brett, Jason and Drew. They were the top six students in the Winnipeg Academy's student body. The student body was made up of some of the brightest students in Canada.

Half an hour after the theft a uniformed police officer arrived. He asked a hundred questions, all of which sounded dumb to Cara.

“Without my passport I'm stuck here, how is all this going to help me get that back?” She fumed, still angry with herself. She didn't even care about the large amount of cash hidden in the bag's lining.

“Don't worry, Miss, they'll take care of you at the Canadian Consulate.” The uniformed officer gave them the consulate's address.

“But they'll have to call my mom to get the proper papers sent, that will take forever. I leave in three days.” Cara nearly cried. She was tired, hungry and frustrated.

“Now, Cara, the officer is doing his best, there's no need to be rude.” Ms. Dolan chided her firmly.

“I'm sorry, but my mom is going to be majorly mad, we had a fight before I left about taking my birthday money out of my savings for the trip, it's stashed in the lining.” Cara rested her head in her hands as she sat on the bench.

“It will be okay, I'll look around in the garbage cans near the museum, perhaps the thief just grabbed your wallet and dumped the bag, they've been known to do that.” The officer offered.

“Yeah, maybe.” Cara didn't hold out much hope.

“I'll be back in a few minutes.” The officer left the school group and pushed through the double doors.

“How much money was in your bag, Cara?” Mr. Beckley asked, his voice scratchy.

“About two hundred America and a little more than that in Canadian.” She answered, nearly groaning. The older gentleman whistled.

“Did you ever get any toys for your birthday or was it just money?” Brett asked sarcastically.

“Oh hush, Brett, at least my mom knows when my birthday is, your last birthday your mom didn't send your present until two weeks later.” Cara countered, in no mood for his attitude.

“Geez, Cara, I was just joking, don't bite my head off.” Brett threw up his hands. She just glared at him but didn't say anything.

“Alright, here we are, is this the backpack that was taken?” The officer came up just as Cara was contemplating whether or not to pummel Brett later.

“Good, my bag.” Cara stood up, relieved. Upon closer inspection she saw that it had something gross all over it.

“Yeah, I found it in the dumpster behind the museum.” The young officer carried it hanging off of his ink pen.

“Thank you, Officer, I appreciate it.” Cara took the bag by the loop at the top with two fingers.

“Can you tell what was taken?” The officer asked, tossing his ink pen in the nearest trash can and fishing for another one from his pocket.

“My wallet, my passport, my make-up bag, some change,” Cara dumped the bag on a clear plastic bag Mr. Keith had found for her. “Nothing else really.” She yanked open the lining of the bag to check her money. “My money is still here.” It was something at least. The uniformed officer asked a few more questions and took their contact information before letting the group go.

“I'm sorry about your bag, Cara, I have a spare one you can borrow if you want.” Sabrina, a round faced girl with dark red hair offered. She had more freckles than Harry Winston had diamonds. With her brown eyes they looked cute.

“Thanks, Sabrina.” Cara gathered her things up in the clear trash bag and began to follow her classmates.

“We'll go to the consulate first thing in the morning, alright.” Ms. Dolan laid a reassuring hand on Cara's shoulder.

“Okay.” Was all the girl could muster. That didn't replace her passport or her wallet with her grandmother's picture in it.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	2. 2

_**The Canadian Consulate ….** _

“Good morning, Inspector.” Constable Turnbull greeted his superior officer with a smile as she walked into the building.

“Morning, Constable Turnbull, do I have any messages or mail?” Inspector Margaret Thatcher asked, frowning.

“No, Sir, not yet.” The cheerful, junior Mountie would have made cholera sound happy.

“Is Constable Fraser here?” Thatcher asked, slipping out of her trench coat.

“No, he went out on an errand a few minutes ago.” Turnbull answered, following his superior officer into her office.

“Thank you, Constable Turnbull, that's all.” Thatcher dismissed him and closed the door behind him. She didn't feel like suffering through his chipper, effervescent attitude this morning. She didn't actually want to be at the consulate this morning.

“Good morning, welcome to Canada, is there anything I can assist you with?” Fraser's voice a bit later indicated that he'd returned to the consulate.

“Yes, my passport was stolen, I need to replace it.” A soft, feminine voice answered.

“Right this way. I'm Constable Benton Fraser.” The Mountie introduced himself. Meg waited until he'd passed her office door to peek out at whoever had come inside. When she did she nearly fainted. Walking down the hall was a younger version of herself.

“It can't be, it can't be her.” Meg whispered as she leaned against the doors, her hand over her heart. There was only one way to find out. After taking a deep breath, the lady Mountie opened her office door and made herself march down the hall to Fraser's home/office.

“My apologies, I hope your stay in Chicago has been pleasant otherwise.” Fraser said as he retrieved the necessary paperwork from the file cabinet behind his desk.

“I love the museum, I sketched a few of the paintings but there were so many.” Meg balled her hands into fists as she stood outside the door listening. She had to see the girl for herself.

“Constable Fraser, hello.” Meg began, without a plan of action other than to see who their guests were. An older woman with long, horse like features and a teen age girl of about sixteen turned to look up at her from their seats in front of Fraser's small desk.

“Inspector Thatcher.” Fraser snapped to attention when he heard her voice. He stood ram rod straight, hands behind his back as she stepped slowly inside.

“As you were, Constable, I came to, I, do you have any carbon paper?” Meg searched for something, anything to legitimize her trip to his office.

“Yes, one moment.” Fraser sat back down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. “How much do you need, Sir?” The Mountie held a pad of carbon paper out for her.

“I'll return what I don't use.” Meg took the pad, her hands barely obeying her they shook so bad. It was her, those dark eyes and that bearing sealed it.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg said before leaving, her husky voice a fraction higher than normal. Fraser watched her leave, puzzled. He'd just restocked her office supplies two days earlier, she shouldn't have needed carbon paper.

“Why do you have to call your boss, 'Sir', Constable Fraser?” Cara asked, bringing Fraser back to reality.

“Oh, it's regulation to address all superior officers as 'Sir', regardless of gender.” Fraser explained quickly. He returned to the file cabinet in search of the necessary paperwork.

“It must be weird, having a woman for a boss.” Cara remarked, leaning forward.

“Cara, leave the officer alone, that's none of your business.” Ms. Dolan scolded her then smiled at Fraser.

“What, I may decide to join the Force when I'm out of school.” Cara shrugged. “One of my mom's cousins is a female officer in the RCMP, I've never met her though.”

“The RCMP is a highly challenging and rewarding career choice, you would be hard pressed to chose a better vocation.” Fraser smiled, remembering his high school days and the careful thought and planning he'd given joining the Force.

“How long will it take to replace Cara's passport, Constable Fraser?” Ms. Dolan asked to redirect the conversation.

“Oh, a few days, perhaps a week.” He watched the teen's eyes widen then she slapped her forehead with her hand.

“I'm supposed to leave in three days.” Cara sighed.

“I'll try to expedite the process as much as possible.” Fraser searched his brain for a way to get her passport quickly.

“Mom is going to kill me when I get back.” The teen stated, frowning.

“I'm afraid we'll simply have to call, Cara, we should have last night.” Ms. Dolan shook her head.

“Feel free to use the consulate phone, I'll step out.” Fraser stood up to leave, he wanted to check on the Inspector anyway.

“Diefenbaker, come.” The Mountie enunciated clearly. A white, furry wolf got up from his position behind the desk and trotted over.

“Who's this?” Cara asked, getting down on one knee to examine Dief more closely.

“Diefenbaker, he's half wolf.” The wolf stood very straight and tall as the girl gently ran her fingers through his silky fur.

“He's beautiful.” Cara exclaimed. Dief soaked the attention up, looking over at her with his amber eyes and cold, pink nose.

“I'd love to sketch him, if that's alright with you.” Cara smiled for the first time since her bag had been stolen.

“If time permits, and Diefenbaker doesn't mind.” Fraser agreed, glad to see the teen happy.

“We should make this phone call, Cara.” Ms. Dolan reminded her.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser, Diefenbaker.” Cara stood back up and took her seat, watching the Mountie and the wolf as Fraser closed the door. Ms. Dolan pulled the telephone closer and handed it to Cara.

“This isn't going to be pretty, is it?” She began dialing, hoping her mom wasn't home but knowing she was.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“I can't believe it's really her, it's been so long.” Meg sat with her desk chair turned to face the window behind her desk. Tears she hadn't cried in over sixteen years fell from her eyes. The fell freely, not lingering to hinder the ones to come. “She's beautiful, just like I knew she would be.” On the lady Mountie's lap she held a photograph she kept hidden in her wallet. One of herself at about the same age as Cara, holding a precious bundle. “My daughter, my Cara.” She managed to stifle a sob as she touched the worn photo. Knowing her daughter was safe had comforted Meg through many lonely moments over the last sixteen years. Now here she was, in Chicago. Meg didn't know whether to be happy or sad. She could see her but not touch her or talk to her.

_TAP, TAP, TAP_

“Come in.” Meg slipped the photograph back in her wallet and began drying her tears on a Kleenex.

“Inspector Thatcher, I have a question.” Fraser stopped mid-sentence when he saw her chair turned away. The Inspector very rarely sat like that, like she had something to hide.

“Yes, Constable?” Meg turned around, her face a calm mask. Fraser studied her a moment before speaking.

“Do I need to file these forms for the young lady's replacement passport with the American Consulate in Ottawa?” He knew the answer but it was the only question that sprang to mind.

“Yes, Fraser, is that all?” Inspector Thatcher pursed her wine red lips together. Fraser noted the redness in her eyes that hadn't been there earlier.

“Yes, Inspector, that's all.” He also noted the balled up Kleenex on the desk and several in the trash can beside the desk.

“I should return, they should be finished calling the young lady's parents by now.” Fraser turned to leave.

“Constable Fraser,” He had just taken a step toward the door when he heard Thatcher's voice.

“Yes, Sir?” The Mountie turned back around.

“What is the girl here for?” Meg had forgotten to ask or introduce herself.

“Miss Lawrence's passport and wallet were stolen yesterday at the Chicago Museum of Art, she's here with five other students from the Winnipeg Academy. She's here to replace her passport.” Fraser answered.

Meg's heart hit against her ribs like an out of control jackhammer. Her daughter had been robbed. The second thought that ran through her brain was the one telling her Fraser would have to read Cara's birth certificate; with her name clearly typed in under _Mother_. That one made Meg panic.

“I should probably be the one to fill out the replacement passport paperwork.” She jumped to her feet.

“Sir, I've handled this type of numerous times.” Fraser said, confused by her sudden anxiety.

“And I haven't, I should practice.” Meg rushed to explain, forcing a smile.

“As you wish, Inspector.” Fraser stepped aside as his boss lady rounded the desk and took the lead. He nearly bumped into her when she stopped and turned around.

“You should stay here, in case Turnbull needs something.” Meg's dark eyes were wide and her face was paler than usual. She was positively a raw nerve.

“Yes, Inspector.” Fraser stopped, just inches separating them as they stood in the doorway.

“I'll handle this, Fraser.” Meg's voice nearly quivered. She walked out the door and down the hallway, leaving Ben in her office to wonder.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“Good afternoon, I'm Inspector Thatcher, I'll be the one to finish taking your information.” Meg sat down behind Fraser's desk, her eyes searching Cara's face for any sign of recognition.

“What happened to Constable Fraser?” Ms. Dolan asked, her fingers gripping the chair arms tightly.

“Constable Fraser had other duties to attend to.” Meg answered quickly.

“Oh, okay.” Cara seemed puzzled but let it go.

“I've called Cara's mother, she's on her way to Chicago with Cara's birth certificate and other documentation.” Ms. Dolan informed Inspector Thatcher, her face pinched as if the words tasted bad.

“Mom totally over reacted, like always.” Cara rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She's concerned for you.” Meg said dryly. _“Concerned she wouldn't have someone to control.”_ She thought to herself. If Ursula Lawrence couldn't control something she wasn't happy. Meg's youngest aunt was a force to be reckoned with in her most jovial moods. She and Ursula had never seen eye to eye. Rosemarie, Meg's mother and Ursula's older sister, had always thought it was the fact that there were only five years difference in their ages. Whatever the reason, Meg was certain that Aunt Ursula lived up to her name's meaning- little bear.

“She's a controlling witch.” Cara scoffed, muttering under her breath. Meg could have chuckled. She'd said the same thing many times.

“Cara, that's your mother you're speaking of, have more respect.” Ms. Dolan scolded her harshly.

“Adopted mother, Ms. Dolan, adopted.” Cara turned on the woman, her voice low but her dark eyes flashing dangerously.

“As I was trying to say, Ms. Lawrence will be here later this evening to finish filling out the necessary paperwork for Cara's passport.” Ms. Dolan said, her air full of animosity. She didn't like Cara's mother any more than the teen did, but it was wrong to be disrespectful to one's parents regardless.

“Let me give you my card, should you need something during your stay here in Chicago. Feel free to call.” Meg opened Fraser's drawer and pulled out a consulate business card. Quickly, she turned it over and scribbled her office extension on the back and her home phone number.

“Thank you, Inspector Thatcher, we'll be in touch.” Ms. Dolan took the card and stood up.

“Nice to have met you, please tell Constable Fraser it was nice to have met him and Diefenbaker, won't you?” Cara stood up as well, looking Meg in the eye.

“I'm glad we met as well, Cara.” Meg smiled, her heart bursting to be this close to her daughter after so many years. She wanted to pull her close and feel her in her arms again.

“Good day, Inspector Thatcher.” Ms. Dolan nudged Cara's arm to come along. The girl waved. Meg closed the door after they left and let a fresh wave of tears fall. She couldn't have stopped them if she'd wanted to. Sixteen years before Meg had put on her mask and built a wall around her heart, never daring to look back.

“I love you, Cara.” She whispered as she sat in Fraser's chair looking at the seat that her daughter had occupied only moments before.

Fraser walked back to his office after he heard Ms. Dolan and Miss Lawrence leave the consulate. Surely Inspector Thatcher was finished with the paperwork he thought. The Mountie's foot steps were muffled by the thick pile, maroon and navy carpet in the hallway. He reached out to turn the door knob but the sound of soft sobbing stopped him. Ben was torn between opening the door to see what was wrong and opening the door to have Thatcher snap at him for no apparent reason that he could see. Since it didn't sound like the Inspector needed help, Fraser backed off and walked on into the consulate kitchen for a cup of coffee.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	3. 3

_**Coffee ….** _

By the time Ben had finished a cup of coffee and walked slowly back to his office, the door was open and Inspector Thatcher was no where in sight. He saw the unfinished paperwork on his desk and sat down to examine it. There was the usual name, address, and birthday. Fraser noted that she'd had her sweet sixteenth birthday only the week before. Continuing on down the page he found tear drops on the bottom of the page, as well as his desk blotter.

“What's the matter with Inspector Thatcher, I've never known her to be prone to emotion like this.” Fraser thought as he re-examined the forms, searching for a reason for her tears there. Nothing stood out to him. The Mountie gathered the forms up and put them in a fresh, manilla folder and tucked it away in his desk drawer.

 _RING, RING, RING_. Fraser answered before the first ring finished.

“Constable Fraser, I'm leaving early for the day.” Meg tried hard not to let her emotions bleed through over the phone. She needed to get away from the consulate, away from her thoughts and responsibilities for a while.

“Are you feeling ill, Sir?” Fraser sounded genuinely concerned. He heard her sigh as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders before answering.

“No, Constable Fraser, I'm fine, thank you for asking.” She hoped he didn't press her on it.

“Have a good day, Inspector.” The Mountie heard the other end of the line go dead before he could finish speaking. Ben didn't hold it against her, there was something troubling her. He only wished he knew how to help, how to make her feel better.

_**The Hotel ….** _

Cara rode back to the hotel in silence, looking out the window. She dreaded seeing her mom, especially after the fight they'd had before she left and the conversation on the phone at the consulate. At times like these Cara usually called her grandmother and talked to her for a while. That wasn't an option so far away.

“I didn't do anything wrong but I feel like I'm being punished.” Cara thought to herself as she watched the cars whip past. She wanted to be in one of those other cars, going anywhere but back to the hotel to meet up with her mom.

“Constable Fraser seemed like a nice sort of fella didn't he.” Ms. Dolan said as they made a turn back toward the hotel.

“Yeah, he was, his wolf was nice too.” Cara agreed. She suspected the constable got a lot of attention from lonely, spinster women like her English teacher. “Did you see the way he looked so nervous when Inspector Thatcher came into the office?” Cara sat up, her dark eyes shining playfully.

“He did seem ill at ease around her.” The spinster school teacher turned to look out the window at the throng of people on the sidewalk.

“I bet they're secretly, passionately in love but neither of them can bring themselves to tell the other how they feel. They burn with desire but won't give in because she's his superior officer. He would do anything to prove his love but she won't let her guard down.” Cara's voice rose as she laid on the melodrama, one hand over her heart and the other pressed against her forehead. She heard the cab driver snicker as he watched her in the rear view mirror.

“Really, Cara, I don't know where you get these notions.” Ms. Dolan puffed out her cheeks and blew her bangs out of her face.

“I've seen you watching the BBC's _Pride and Prejudice_ during your lunch period.” Cara reminded her with a playful smile. She received an annoyed glare for her trouble.

“Here you go, ladies, enjoy your stay in the Windy City.” The cab driver pulled into the cement drive for their hotel and put the car in park.

“Have a good day, Sir.” Cara slid out and waited for Ms. Dolan to pay the fare. Her mood had changed back to one of dread. For a few moments she'd forgotten her mother was due to arrive in a few hours.

_**Lunch …** _

Ray (Kowalski) Vecchio slid into the leather booth of his favorite burger joint. The loose limbed detective was his usual high on life while his Mountie friend was thoughtful and quiet.

“Gotta love a greasy spoon.” Ray rubbed his hands together as he read the menu held firmly in place by the clear plexiglass covering the table. He looked up at the short, pudgy waitress who held an ink pen in the sausagy fingers of one hand and an order pad in the other.

“I'll take a double cheese burger, no onion, fries and iced tea.” Ray gave her a winning smile. He and the waitress waited on Fraser to decide. The Mountie had been slow since he got in the GTO with Ray.

“Fraser, what'll ya have?” The lanky detective prompted. Ben looked up at him from the table top.

“The same as my friend, thank you kindly.” Ben smiled up at the waitress, who smiled back.

“You gotta tell me how you do that, Fraser.” Ray leaned forward after the waitress left.

“Do what, Ray?” The Mountie asked innocently.

“That thing you do that gets chicks to melt the way they do. No matter what you say, they go all starry eyed. I say please and thank you and I get nada.” Ray hooked his sunglasses clad prescription lenses on the collar of his long sleeved Chicago Bulls shirt.

“I treat everyone the same, Ray, male or female.” Ben answered matter-of-factly.

“Hog wash, Fraser, you could be in a comma and still get Cindy Crawford's phone number.” The detective insisted. “It's got to be the uniform er somethin', I haven't figured it out yet.”

“Iced tea, fellas, here you go.” The waitress set two glasses on the table and two straws.

“Thank you kindly.” Ben nodded as he took his straw and peeled the paper off.

“You're welcome.” The waitress smiled, showing a pretty smile, her eyes sharp.

“See, that's what I mean, you say 'thank you kindly' and the waitress goes from dead to diva in a heartbeat.” Ray hitched his thumb toward the counter where the young woman drifted to wait for their order to come up.

“The waitress simply wishes to increase the likelihood of getting a tip by being friendly.” Ben insisted.

“You're hopeless.” Ray leaned back, taking a drink of tea.

“Since we're on the subject of women, may I speak to you in confidence, Ray?” Fraser set his tea aside and leaned forward on his elbows, his features solemn.

“Yeah, sure, Fraser, lay it on me.” Ray shrugged, his blue eyes keen and alive.

“A young woman came to the consulate this morning seeking a replacement passport, her's was stolen yesterday at the Chicago Museum of Art, and Inspector Thatcher came into my office, seemingly because she wanted carbon paper, but I know for a fact she had a full tablet in her office, I put it there myself. A few minutes later I went to check on her under the guise of asking a question and she insisted on filling the girl's request out personally, for the practice. After the girl and her chaperone left I went to my office and heard Inspector Thatcher sobbing. I didn't want to intrude so I didn't go inside. A few moments later I went back to my office, which was by now empty, and found evidence that the Inspector had indeed been crying. I'm at a loss as to the cause.”

“You've been stewing on this since I picked you up for lunch haven't you.” It was as much a mystery to Ray as it was to Ben.

“Yes, Ray.” Fraser sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his tongue toying with his eye tooth.

“Did the two of you have words this morning, something change around the consulate maybe?” Ray offered. Heaven knows, women weren't his strong suit.

“No, relations with our superiors in Ottawa have been excellent lately.” He didn't mention anything related to his relationship with Meg on purpose. Ben had thought he may have inadvertently said something to upset her but his instincts told him that wasn't the reason either.

“I don't know, buddy, you know her better than I do. Maybe it's a female, hormonal thing.” Ray shrugged. It was easier to get shredded dealing with women than dealing with a pissed tiger. Both men had their fair share of claw marks from entanglement with the fairer sex.

“I'm certain the cause will show itself in due time.” It felt good to get it out in the open.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	4. 4

_**Meg's Apartment ….** _

“I know I put it in here somewhere.” Meg fussed as she dug through her closet looking for her photo albums and high school year book. She'd taken a walk through the mall, losing herself in the crowd but everywhere the lady Mountie went she saw mothers and daughters walking side by side. There were old ladies with daughters Meg's age, new mothers with their babies and seemingly every age in between. That only reminded Meg of what she'd missed.

After buying herself a quart of fudge ripple, Meg took the train home and plopped down on the couch to eat it. The television played entirely too many diaper commercials, toy commercials and family dinner ads. Meg turned it off and took her dirty spoon to the kitchen. Restless and near tears, she wandered into her bedroom and opened the closet door. On the right was her box of treasures left over from childhood. Beside that sat a medium sized, plastic tote full of mementos from high school and her early days with the RCMP. On a whim, Meg took down the plastic tote and opened it. She found old birthday cards, notes from friends, bookmarks, and photographs among other things. One of those old photographs was of Meg and Jake, the love of her life, until lately. It had hurt her when he died, so badly Meg thought she'd die herself. Every day after his death had been hollow without his smile, his laugh and the way he made Meg feel like she was the only person in his world. No one should have to hurt so much that every breath is a stabbing pain and every minute is a useless eternity. Nothing could fill the emptiness she felt, not sleep, not friends, no amount of prayer or asking why changed the fact that everything Meg held dear had disappeared, slipped through her fingers.

Fresh tears spilled from her eyes. Jake had been her first and she'd hoped her last love. Her pain was as fresh sixteen years later as it had been the morning of the accident. Meg crumpled to the carpet floor of her closet, tears hitting the worn image of Jake's smiling face.

Losing Cara on top of losing Jake had taken it's toll on Meg. She'd spent her senior year in a boarding school for troubled girls. Cara had been adopted by her aunt Ursula. There was nothing to go back to after high school. Meg put her application in during her first year in college and moved on as if those two years had been nothing but a bad dream. She never dreamed that her daughter would walk into the Canadian Consulate in downtown Chicago, Illinois.

“Cara Elizabeth Thatcher, my baby girl.” Meg held the tiny, pink arm bracelet up to the light. She'd been so close but Meg felt like Cara had somehow gotten farther away. It didn't feel fair to the lady Mountie. Nothing made sense.

After a while, Meg got up, washed her face and got ready for bed. It was early yet, but she felt exhausted. The mirror showed a woman she barely recognized. She was too tired to care.

_**Cara's Hotel …** _

“Cara,” A harsh woman's voice cut through the chatter of the three girls gathered around the television in the hotel room.

“Mom.” The teen pulled away from her classmates. She took a deep breath and tried not to let anger control her.

“Are you alright, is your money safe with Ms. Dolan?” Ursula Lawrence held Cara at arm's length.

“Yes, Mom, I'm fine.” Cara answered. She pulled out of the woman's grip.

“As soon as we get this passport business settled you and I are leaving.” The petite woman pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ears.

“The trip isn't over until day after tomorrow, Mom.” Cara protested, crossing her arms over her chest. It was embarrassing to be talked to like that in front of her classmates.

“This trip is over, Cara Elizabeth, no discussion.” Ursula's words were final. She stepped closer to the teen, her hands on her hips. Cara narrowed her dark eyes at the older woman, barely holding her tongue.

“The consulate is closed by now, but we'll go first thing in the morning. Right now I've got to see if I can find a room in this dump. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Ursula turned and left Cara standing near the hotel door, Sabrina and Tiffany's eyes glancing quickly from the Brad Pitt movie to the argument near the door.

“She's got another thing coming if she thinks I'm going home with her.” Cara thought to herself. She'd had just about as much of Ursula's dictatorship as she could stand. A hasty plan began forming in her mind. She had a lot more money with her than her mother or Ms. Dolan knew about.

“Oh yeah, she's got another thing coming alright.” Cara walked into the bathroom and wiped the tears gathering in her eyes away and freshened up.

_**Fraser's office ….** _

Fraser re-read Cara's forms, the desk lamp his only illumination. He'd read them twice already, but something nagged at his mind. He'd seen this information before, but where?

Winnipeg Academy, that's what stuck out, that was the red flag. Fraser wasn't one to believe in hunches, but he had the overwhelming feeling that this was the key to the mystery he'd been trying to figure out all day. With a sigh, he checked his watch, Winnipeg was an hour behind. The Academy would still be empty.

Fraser put the pages back in the file folder and leaned back. Then it struck him where he'd seen the Winnipeg Academy before- Thatcher's personnel files. He still didn't understand the connection between Cara and Thatcher. Digging into his superior officer's personnel files would be tantamount to slitting his own throat. Meg Thatcher prized her privacy and her image as much as Fraser prized Diefenbaker. One answer had presented a dozen other questions. Fraser decided to wait and see if any of the questions would answer themselves. He grabbed his leather jacket and Stetson.

“Come on Diefenbaker, let's get a breath of air, shall we?” He planted his hat on his head and opened the door. The air in Chicago was anything but fresh, but it was different.

_**The Hotel …. Two o'clock in the Morning …..** _

Cara quickly packed her things in her school backpack. She'd rifled through Tiffany and Sabrina's things for a few extra changes.

 _“I'm sorry, hope this covers it.”_ The note she left on the dresser said. Paper clipped to the money was a hundred dollar bill to cover the two sweaters and two pair of jeans she'd taken. Two uniform skirts and a short sleeve blouse lay on the dresser beneath the money. Cara wouldn't be needing them where she intended to go.

Neither of the girls moved when Cara opened the door to the hall beyond the hotel room. Before she could get to the elevators she saw a familiar form-Brett. There wasn't anywhere to hide from him. The hall was too well lit.

“What are you doing out at this hour?” Brett questioned, a can of soda and a pack of peanut butter crackers in his hands.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Cara hissed, adjusting her backpack over her school sweater. She'd braided her nearly waist length hair into one, long braid and wore a blue bandana over it.

“I woke up hungry, what's your story?” Brett opened the crackers and popped one in his mouth. He was a tall, gangly boy with hazel eyes and sable colored hair cut short. He hadn't yet grown up to match his ears and prominent front teeth. Cara mused that when he did, he'd be handsome. For a moment she thought she'd regret not seeing him all grown up.

“My mom says that as soon as she gets my passport we're going back home. She can go fly a kite, I'm not going back with her.” Cara's dark eyes and venomous tone made Brett look at her more closely. He could see she meant it.

“What are you going to do, you don't know anyone here, your ID and stuff was stolen.” He pointed out. He seemed concerned.

“I've got my bases covered, no worries.” A dark, mischievous smile pulled at her red lips.

“Ms. Dolan and your mom are going to freak out when they find you missing.” Brett popped another cracker in his mouth.

“Let them, I'm not going back, not yet. Promise me you won't tell them, let me get a head start.” She stepped closer, her voice low and desperate. Brett could see the wheels spinning in her mind.

“What will you give me not to?” He asked, being a normal, teenage boy. Cara looked up at him for a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip.

“How's this?” She tip toed up and kissed him, putting her arms around his neck. It took him a moment to get his bearings. When he did, he closed his eyes and leaned in closer.

“Promise you won't tell them anything, Brett?” Cara whispered after pulling away. She could still taste the peanut butter from his kiss.

“Uh, yeah, I won't tattle, promise.” He swallowed hard, still reeling.

“Thank you, Brett. I'm sorry about what I said yesterday about your mom.” Cara slid her arms from his neck.

“Ah, you're right, she probably did forget when my birthday was.” He shrugged, a pink blush filling his cheeks.

“Wish me luck.” Cara smiled, hitching her thumbs in her back pack straps.

“Write me a letter or something.” He waved as she started toward the elevators.

“Okay, bye, Brett.” She waved. With a dopey smile on his face, the boy watched her get on the elevator and disappear.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	5. 5

_**The Next Morning …** _

“Good morning, how may I help you?” Constable Turnbull asked when he opened the door promptly at eight the next morning.

“I'm Ursula Lawrence, may I speak to whom ever is in charge please.” A petite woman stepped through the door, a taller, paler woman sliding in the door behind her.

“Right this way, Ma'am.” Turnbull ushered the women a few steps down the entrance hall toward the Inspector's office. The smiling, blonde Mountie tapped on his superior's office and popped his head in when she called.

“Sir, there are two women here who wish to speak to you.” Turnbull's voice carried through the room.

“Show them in, Turnbull.” Inspector Thatcher glowered at him. She was in no mood for him or anyone else today. He opened the door for the two.

“Margaret?” The loud, abrasive one said in surprise.

“Aunt Ursula?” Inspector Thatcher stood up, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She knew that Ms. Dolan had called Cara's guardian, but knowing it and seeing her in the flesh were different.

“Where's Cara, Margaret?” The Inspector looked from Turnbull to Ms. Dolan, both of them with confused expressions.

“Ms. Lawrence, have a seat.” Meg offered, putting her mask of professionalism back on. That didn't stop her hands from shaking.

“What have you done with Cara, I won't ask again.” Ursula growled, stepping closer to Meg's desk.

“Please, calm down, I don't know what you're talking about.” Meg tried to control her temper, but history was repeating itself.

“How do the two of you know each other?” Ms. Dolan asked as she took a seat but she was soundly ignored.

“Cara's gone, Margaret.” Ursula remained standing but her voice had come down to a more normal volume.

“Gone? Gone where?” Meg stood up, her hands clenched to hide the trembling.

“I don't know. I got a call yesterday morning saying her purse had been stolen, including her passport and identification. I flew down here to get her. Sometime last night Cara slipped out of her hotel room and disappeared.” Ursula explained.

“Have you informed the Chicago authorities she's missing?” Meg's heart lodged in her throat. She had a pretty good idea of how it had went down when Ursula had told her they were leaving.

“No, I thought you were behind it.” Ursula admitted, her anger rising again. Meg ignored her reddening face and picked up the phone.

“Constable Turnbull, have Constable Fraser report to my office, now.” Meg dialed Lt. Welsh's extension and waited for him to answer. Turnbull stepped outside and dialed Fraser's extension.

“Lieutenant Welsh, Thatcher speaking,” She gave him a need to know reason for her call requesting Detective Ray (K.) Vecchio be dispatched to the consulate.

“Constable Turnbull, why don't you take Ms. Dolan to the parlor, please.” Meg suggested firmly.

“Yes, Sir.” Turnbull nodded.

“Ms. Dolan, this way please.” The junior Mountie offered the gape mouthed matron his hand with a smile. She would have followed him through the ninth circle of hell without asking a single question. Fraser met them at the door on his way inside.

“Yes, Inspector Thatcher?” The Mountie noted the way Meg seemed pale and drawn. He also noted the angry woman sitting at her desk and the resemblance between them.

“Ms. Lawrence's daughter, Cara, the teen age girl from yesterday, she's run away.” She quickly filled Fraser in on what she thought he needed to know. For her part, Ursula wasn't adding to his knowledge base about their past.

“Do you have a photograph, Ms. Lawrence?” Fraser asked, his mind switching gears faster than Ray's GTO could go from zero to sixty.

“Yes, right here.” Ursula dug in her purse for her wallet. She pulled the latest school photo out and handed it to Fraser. She was still plenty angry but she was beginning to fear for Cara's safety.

“Cara's so independent, but she's never run away before.” Ursula's tune had begun to change. Meg rolled her eyes.

“She reminds me a lot of someone else I know.” Ursula's pointed statement made Meg grit her teeth. Sixteen years hadn't changed her Aunt Ursula. She knew that Meg wouldn't say anything in front of Fraser.

“Lt. Welsh is sending over Detective Vecchio as we speak. Have you questioned any of Cara's classmates?” Meg struggled to remain calm; her baby was missing. The lady Mountie knew well enough the dangers that runaways faced.

“We need to get out there, we need to find Cara.” Ursula moved to the edge of her seat.

“She's a smart girl, I'm certain she'll be fine.” Fraser tried to reassure the wringing and twisting woman.

“If she were smarter she wouldn't have run away.” Ursula countered.

“And you wonder why Cara runaway.” Meg stood up, her fists balled and her voice rising. Fraser stood up, putting himself between the two women. He knew what Meg was capable of doing.

“Ms. Lawrence, now is not the time for blame. Do you know what resources your daughter had available to her, did she know anyone here in Chicago perhaps?” The Mountie looked from one woman to the other. He knew there was a history between them as sure as he knew his tunic was red.

“Cara had about two hundred US dollars and a little more than that in Canadian.” Meg answered. “She told me yesterday.” She responded to the two perplexed expressions on Ursula's and Fraser's faces.

“Do you know the trip's itinerary, Ms. Lawrence?” Fraser redirected.

“She may have gone back for shelter if she's been there before.” Meg explained before Ursula could ask.

“No, Ms. Dolan has that information.” The other woman answered tersely.

“Inspector Thatcher, perhaps you should question Ms. Dolan, she may have that information on her person.” Fraser suggested, hoping she didn't insist on staying.

“Hey, Fraser, Welsh sent me, said something about a missing kid.” Ray called out as he walked toward Thatcher's office. The jeans clad detective hung his sunglasses on his shirt collar as he entered the office.

“Ah, Detective Vecchio, this is Ursula Lawrence, the missing girl's mother.” Fraser introduced them.

Ray felt like he'd walked into an invisible force field of tension entering Thatcher's office. Both women in the room looked like cats whose tails had been stepped on and even Fraser seemed ill at ease. Only Francesca Vecchio could get him that bothered. The whole situation had to be explained for the umpteenth time to Ray, who took notes.

“Any idea if your daughter's friends know anything.” Ray asked, thinking back to his own teen years. His friends had meant as much to him as his parents. He'd never have made a move without telling Stella or one of his buddies.

“No, we were just about to question Ms. Dolan when you arrived, Detective.” Meg answered. Despite her professional mask, Ray could tell the lady Mountie's nerves were jangled. He looked to Fraser to take the lead.

Fraser wanted to keep Meg and Ursula apart but didn’t' want to leave Ray to the wolves.

“I'll go question the school teacher, want to join me, Inspector?” Ray motioned toward the parlor where Turnbull had taken her. Meg simply nodded and proceeded to follow him.

_**The Parlor …** _

“And at the very last second he made the save.” Turnbull talked with his hands as Ms. Dolan listened intently, her eyes shining behind her horned rimmed glasses.

“Constable Turnbull, would you excuse us, please.” Fraser interrupted the junior Mountie's curling story.

“Yes, Sir, should I prepare a pot of coffee for our guests?” He motioned to Ms. Dolan, who was preening.

“Thank you, Turnbull.” Fraser nodded, feeling like he had his hands full.

Henrietta Dolan looked up from face to face, Fraser's handsome, calm face, Ray's quirky, energetic one, Inspector Thatcher's pinched and annoyed visage and Ursula's angry expression.

“Oh my.” She thought to herself. These people had questions and she didn't have the answers, a teacher's worst nightmare.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	6. 6

_**Cara's Adventures ….** _

Cara kept a wary eye on her surroundings but it was difficult when there was so much to see. She kept her guide book handy and her sketch pad. It would take days just to sketch the buildings alone. The architecture was amazing in the Windy City. She was left breathless when she saw Lake Michigan up close. It was the first time she'd felt such a free wind on her face. Cara spent an hour just walking along the cement walkway, looking out at the water and the sky. For the first time in ages the girl sat down and sketched to her heart's content without being criticized or ordered around. It was exhilarating to be so free.

For lunch, Cara decided to treat herself to her favorite food, pizza. She walked until she found a place filled with working professionals and took a seat at the counter of the small shop. The walls were painted the same color as a green pepper. The Italian flag was hung off to one side of the counter. To the left of the counter was the kitchen. A real stone oven baked pizzas as well as a modern, industrial model. A black, metal shelf held funny shaped bottles filled with various pastas in oil in the dining area. The place smelled heavenly.

“What can I get for you?” A young guy of no more than twenty asked as he wiped his hands on a sauce stained, white apron. Cara smiled back at him, pink rising from beneath her sweater to overtake her cheeks. She ordered her drink and then read the menu board behind the register.

“What's a pretty lady like you doing here all alone?” The young man leaned on the counter after he'd taken care of her order.

“I'm touring Chicago.” Cara answered, flattered that he'd called her pretty.

“I bet a pretty girl like you has a pretty name, I'm Angelo.” He kept smiling, his dark eyes and olive complexion seeming mysterious to her.

“I'm Cara.” She smiled.

“Angelo, there's work to be done.” A gruff, male voice called from the far end of the kitchen.

“Yeah, Uncle Toni, I hear you.” The young man stood up, rolling his eyes.

“He keeps me hopping, I'd better go before he has a stroke or something.” Angelo sighed, wishing he could spend some more time talking to the brown haired girl blushing at his counter. She smiled and picked up her fork to take a bite of her calzone.

_**The Hotel ….** _

Mr. Buckley took his five students for lunch at a nearby sub shop down the street from the hotel. The girls made eyes at the boys and the boys watched women walking down the street through the large windows of the shop. The old Social Studies teacher didn't pay them much mind, as long as they minded their manners and didn't stray out of sight, he didn't say anything. He'd been a boy once many years ago and remembered what it was like to be out of his parents and teacher's sight. After lunch, he walked the five back to the hotel and up to their rooms. All of them had brought swimsuits and wanted to go swimming. Ms. Dolan had seen to it that the girls' suits were appropriate to wear in public. Knowing Henrietta, Mr. Buckley knew he wouldn't have to worry about it. His thoughts were never very far away from Cara and her situation. The old man knew there was more to the teen than she let others see. Running away seemed a rash thing to do, but Buckley knew that girl would use her head and stay safe, even if it meant turning herself in at a police station. He prayed something didn't happen to her just the same.

“Mr. Buckley, I think the queen is in town, there's a Mountie in his dress uniform in the lobby.” Jason, the youngest and most excitable, came back from the restroom shouting. The old man got up from his chair and went to see for himself. Sure enough, walking briskly across the thickly carpeted hotel lobby was a red serge clad Mountie in his Stetson and high brows.

“Mr. Buckley, are the children with you?” Ms. Dolan's voice rang out across the large room.

 _“No, I dropped them off on Mars to play with the aliens.”_ Buckley thought to himself before he answered her dumb question. “Yes, Ms. Dolan, they're here in the swimming pool.” He saw the gaggle of people following the stern faced Mountie. There was Ms. Dolan, Cara's mother, a hot shot American man and another scared looking woman. The last one seemed familiar but Mr. Buckley couldn't quite place her.

“Sir, I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP.” The old man's brows shot up.

“He first came here searching for the man who murdered his father and, for reasons that need not be explored at this juncture, have remained, attached as the deputy liaison officer with the Canadian Consulate here in Chicago.” The scared looking woman explained quickly.

“That was a real mouthful.” Mr. Buckley chuckled.

“You have no idea.” The blonde American pipped up, grinning.

“What's your name, lass?” The old gentleman asked, his cataract eyes studying Meg's face closely.

“Inspector Thatcher, also of the RCMP.” Meg answered. She recognized ole boring Buckley the first moment she laid eyes on him. He'd been her Social Studies teacher all three years she'd attended Winnipeg Academy. Meg loved history and culture, but even she got bored in his classes.

“Meg Thatcher, is that you?” He smiled, glad to see one of his students had gone on to do something with their life.

“Yes, Sir.” Meg answered, wishing she could get to the point.

“Have you found Cara?” Mr. Buckley asked, twiddling his thumbs as he stood in the doorway.

“No, Mr. Buckley, we haven't, we're here to see if any of the other students may know where she's gone.” Meg tried not to let her fear show through.

“They're right there, in the swimming pool.” The old gentleman hitched his thumb to the five youngsters splashing around in the water.

“Children, time to get out of the water.” Ms. Dolan set about getting the five teens to wade in and get out of the water. The boys were still intent on ducking each other under.

“Out of the water, now boys.” The English teacher's voice became rougher as she raised it. In a minute all five students were seated on the side of the pool, wrapped up in large, fluffy towels.

“Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser are here to ask you some questions about Cara. It's very important to be honest with the officers, to help bring Cara back safely.” Ms. Dolan looked each student in the eye as she spoke.

“Who saw Cara last?” The wiry, American asked, watching their reaction.

“I guess that would be us, we went to bed around eleven-thirty last night.” Sabrina volunteered.

“Did she say anything about running away?” Meg asked, hoping her girl had left bread crumbs.

“No, but she was really mad after she and her mom argued earlier in the afternoon.” Tiffany, a dark haired girl who looked like she could play Snow White answered, avoiding Ursula's gaze.

“Did she leave a note of any kind or any of her things?” Fraser took his turn.

“Yeah, she left a hundred dollar bill and a note saying she was sorry for stealing a few of our clothes. She left her school skirts and a blouse behind.” Sabrina shrugged, feeling like a tattle tale.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Meg seemed desperate, her hands stuffed into her trench coat's pockets and her voice sounding brittle. None of the students said anything, much to her distress. The longer Cara stayed missing the more likely she wouldn't come home safe. Meg didn't want to lose her daughter before she had a chance to tell her the truth.

“One of you knows something, Cara's life is at stake. Please, if you know anything, tell us.” Meg raised her voice. The girls looked at each other, anxiety running between them. The boys straightened up and closed ranks.

“Inspector Thatcher, may I speak to you, in private?” Fraser turned to his superior officer, his tone calm and pleasant.

“We have to see if they know anything, Constable Fraser.” Meg gestured to the five teens sitting quietly on the gritty cement.

“It's important, Inspector.” He persisted. Meg followed Fraser, confused and anxious, out to the lobby and off to one side. Together they sat down in an empty corner of the lobby.

“Inspector Thatcher, is there something pertinent to Cara's disappearance you would like to tell me, in confidence?”

Meg's eyes widened as she looked at him. Was it that obvious? She thought for a moment, trying to explain her outburst in front of the children.

“I've gathered that you and Ms. Lawrence have a history and that you attended Winnipeg Academy sometime before graduating from boarding school. You seem too personally involved for Miss Lawrence to be just another missing girl.” Fraser hoped he'd pressed the right buttons. He knew that Meg didn't give up her secrets easily. She studied the wallpaper pattern off to one side.

“Inspector, in confidence, tell me what's wrong.” Fraser took a deep breath before he laid a gentle hand on her forearm. Such a tender touch proved her undoing. Tears glistened in Meg's eyes when she looked back at him.

“Cara's my daughter.” She whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. A lot of things began to make sense to Fraser.

“I was a few months older than she is now when she was conceived. My boyfriend, Jake Franklin, was killed in a car accident when I was three months along. I hadn't told him yet. My mother's youngest sister, Ursula, adopted her. I was only seventeen, Fraser.” Meg put her hand over her mouth to stop a sob. “I didn't want to give her up, but I was a mess. Ursula convinced my mother that she could provide Cara a better home than I could.” It was the truth, but it still felt like an excuse to Meg. It was the worst decision of her life and the one with the most, worst, consequences.

“We'll get Cara back, safe and sound.” Fraser pulled a freshly laundered handkerchief out of his tunic and handed it to Meg. That made her cry harder.

“It's all my fault, Fraser, if I had been stronger I could have raised Cara myself. She wouldn't have run away.” A fresh wave of tears slid down Meg's cheeks as her chin quivered. Fraser had never seen her upset like this before.

“I take it Cara doesn't know you're her biological mother.” The Mountie watched her shake her head no.

“Ursula insisted that I stay away from her. She didn't want any negative influences in Cara's life.” Meg gritted her teeth, her anger seething.

“The main focus right now is Cara. As soon as we find her you can set about putting things right between you.” Fraser tried to re-direct Meg's attention. It wouldn't help any for her to antagonize Ursula.

“What am I going to do if I lose her, Fraser?” Meg dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose, the worst of her tears beginning to subside.

“You won't have to find out, we'll find her.” He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.

“If anyone can, it's you, Fraser.” Meg let out a shuttering breath and offered him back his handkerchief.

“Keep it.” He folded her fingers over the thin, cotton material.

“Thank you, Fraser.” She stuffed it into her coat pocket. “I'm better now, we should continue with the children.” Meg took a deep breath and started to stand.

“Hey, guys and girls, one of the boys said he saw Cara at around two this morning, kid says he asked her what her plans were and she said she had her bases covered, no worries.” Ray said as soon as he was near enough to be heard.

“That's not very much to go on.” Meg's eyes met Fraser's gaze. It didn't take his prescription glasses to see there was something besides the case between them.

“Get this, the kid also said she kissed him before she left. I'd say Cara will contact our little Romeo soon.” Ray watched Meg's reaction as well as Fraser's. The Mountie looked to Meg, who went from concerned to shocked.

“Thank you, Ray. Have any of the other students come forward with more information?” Fraser asked, pressing on with the investigation.

“Nope, nothin'.” Ray shrugged.

“She's out there all alone.” Meg said quietly, looking off into the distance. Ray caught Fraser's eye and with one look asked if the Inspector was alright. The Mountie nodded.

“Well, we've got Cara's picture, I'd better take it back to the precinct to get it out to patrol.” Ray's mind went to the next logical step.

“We should take it to all the most likely places she'd try to stay, various hotels and such.” Fraser suggested.

Meg snapped back to the conversation. She couldn't imagine her daughter trying to negotiate with some of the low life scum for a safe place to stay.

“I'll go with you.” The lady Mountie volunteered quickly.

“Inspector, are you certain, it's not exactly a safe place for a lady.” Fraser rushed to say, knowing as soon as the words were out that he shouldn't have said them.

“Constable Fraser, I am perfectly capable of handling myself in any situation, whether in the wilds of home or an urban setting. My field work has always been impeccable.” Meg took a step toward her subordinate officer, her dark eyes flashing dangerously.

Fraser say Ray trying not to laugh as he glanced quickly over Meg's head. The American detective was grinning like a possum, shaking his head at the pair.

“My apologies, Sir, I meant no disrespect.” Fraser straightened his spine and swallowed hard. Part of him, somewhere he'd never admit to knowing about, secretly reveled in her commanding tone and the way she didn't back down from him. It made Ben light headed when she did that.

“None necessary, Constable Fraser, I appreciate your thought as to my safety. The only flaw in your reasoning was to think I'd take on something I'm not capable of finishing.” Meg still spoke assertively but her tone lacked it earlier venom.

“Understood.” Ben nodded. If it needed said again though, he'd have said it in a heartbeat. He may have been her subordinate officer, but Ben considered her safety his responsibility.

“Well, let's saddle up, boys, and, uh, Inspector.” Ray cut in, taking his sunglasses from his shirt collar.

“Just a moment, Ray, we should speak to Ms. Lawrence.” Fraser put his Stetson on and walked toward the swimming pool.

“Whoa, what for?” The detective jogged a few steps to catch up.

“She'll want to know the progress of the investigation, Ray.” Fraser looked at him like he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it first.

“I got ya.” He didn't want to, but Ray walked in beside his Canadian partner.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	7. 7

_**Cara's Freedom ….** _

Cara walked around the city until nearly dark, enjoying her freedom. She delighted in the lights, the sights and the sounds of the Windy City. There were so many strange looking as well as sounding people and so many things to sketch. Cara drank it in, trying to remember every detail.

By six o'clock she was foot sore and getting sleepy. It was time to think about finding somewhere to sleep for the night. That presented a problem. The teen had plenty of money for a modest hotel room, but a room required an ID. Cara wondered if maybe she could bribe her way into a room. That would eat into her money reserves and she knew it would be best to be frugal with her money. It was a cool evening, about fifty degrees, but the wind was chillier. Cara's options were limited; warm comfort or a cool night on the streets.

“I need a place to think, at least for tonight.” Cara thought as she sat on a bench near the lake shore. There was the matter of shelter and food to see to. If Ursula had taught her nothing, she'd taught her how to survive on a lean budget. The single mother chose to put as much of her pay into savings as possible. Cara had not wanted for anything, but Ursula had allowed little in the way of luxury.

Her mind set, Cara made her way back toward the city, looking for a likely hotel, something modest and hopefully little watched over. She spied a likely target in the Hotel Regal, a two story establishment with mostly empty parking spots surrounding it. The few cars that were outside were almost as old as Cara. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, pasting on her most innocent expression. Her palms were sweaty and her heart beat like a fox's on the run. The runaway walked up to the double doors and slowly pushed through. An older gentleman with a gray fringe of head around the back of his balding head sat at the counter watching television. His rheumy eyes drooped as he watched the flickering image on the miniscule screen. An electronic door bell signaled Cara's arrival. So much for sneaking inside. Still, the girl didn't let it deter her. She walked in the small lobby, worn, brown carpet on the floor and faded, dusty pictures on the beige walls.

“Hello, I'd like a room for the night.” Cara pulled out the change purse she was using as a wallet. It didn't contain all her money. Having her real wallet stolen had taught her that lesson well. The rheumy eyed man looked at her suspiciously, gauging her character by her youth and bright smile.

“ID please.” He turned the television volume down.

“I forgot my ID.” Cara pulled out her puppy dog eyes, her mouth pouty.

“No ID, no room, sorry girl.” The old man waved one arthritis twisted hand at her, shooing the teen away.

“It's getting late, perhaps I could make it worth you turning a blind eye.” Cara pulled out a twenty and gave her best smile. The old man looked unconvinced so she pulled out a ten to go with it.

“It's thirty-five a night, plus a blind eye.” Cara dug around until she came up with the sixty-five dollars, nine of it in ones and a dollar's worth of quarters. She could have flopped down a hundred dollar bill but she didn't want the night manager to get the wrong idea. He wouldn't push if he thought she didn't have anything.

“Room 213, second floor, directly over the office here. If I hear so much as a loud television, I'll put you out, do you understand me girl?” He wagged a curved finger at her, the other hand shoving a key toward her on the counter.

“Yes, Sir, thank you kindly.” Cara beamed at him, at least until her back was turned.

“Extortionist.” She muttered, pushing through the double doors and into the chilling night air.

The single bed was situated in the middle of the small room. A thirteen inch television sat on the dresser beside the bathroom door. It was clean and didn't smell. Cara flipped on the bathroom light and looked around. There was a shower stall, commode and wash basin, all white. A single bulb illuminated the tiny space.

“It'll have to do I suppose.” Cara flopped down on the bed. The frame gave way under her weight, dumping her out in the floor with a yelp. She picked herself up and giggled. This was to be her adventure, and what a start.

“There are two keys to this place, I have one and the night manager the other.” That made her pause as she looked at the door. Then she looked at the wooden chair in the corner, supposedly to go with a now nonexistent desk or table.

“Bingo!” She took the chair and wedged it beneath the door knob after sliding the chain lock in place.

“Now I can shower in private.” The teen peeled out of her various layers and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower would be just what the doctor ordered.

_**The Canadian Consulate ….** _

Ray had driven to most of the low rent places he knew of and a few he didn't. He, Fraser and Thatcher had asked every manager and desk jockey if they'd seen Cara. None of them had. Meg wasn't ready to quit but had to admit defeat when they'd gone to the same hotel twice.

“Come on, I'll drop you back at the consulate, I promised Stella we'd go over a case.” Ray caught a glimpse of Meg in the rear view mirror. She seemed too desperate, too adamant, even for a dedicated officer. He let it slide, figuring it was none of his business. Neon lights had been glowing for the past hour as the pulled up to the brick building.

“Thank you kindly, Detective, I'll let you know if anything develops.” Meg thanked Ray as she slid out, taking Fraser's hand to steady herself. She didn't even get her usual tingle of pleasure from it.

“I'll do the same, have a good night.” Ray waved as he watched the pair walk up the front steps.

“Good evening everyone.” Constable Turnbull greeted them soberly as his superior officers entered the building.

“Have there been any phone calls, Turnbull?” Meg asked, hoping Cara had called.

“Only official, consulate business calls I'm afraid.” The junior Mountie answered with a frown.

“Thank you, Constable, dismissed.” Meg walked on past, into her office.

“Ah, Constable Fraser, there's a kettle of chicken and dumplings as well as an apple pie waiting for you in the oven. I assumed you would be out late looking for Miss Lawrence. Please, let me know what you think, I'm still tinkering with the apple pie recipe.” Turnbull gave a half smile at the thought of the cinnamon-y goodness waiting for them.

“I shall, Constable Turnbull, thank you kindly.” Fraser nodded. The annoyance of the junior Mountie's hobbies was mostly out weighed by their convenience after a long day. Turnbull reminded Fraser of a pet who, when left alone too long, finds something do do with his time. Thankfully, in Turnbull's case, it was cooking and not furniture demolition.

“Good evening, Sir.” Turnbull found his Stetson and clocked out for the night. Fraser watched him walk out, his own Stetson still in hand. The building was deathly quiet. After a moment, Fraser heard the sound of Meg moving around in her office. He tapped on her door and waited for her answer.

“I'm busy, Constable Fraser, now isn't a good time.” Inspector Thatcher called, her voice strong but tired.

“Your box of tissues is in the bottom drawer of your filing cabinet, where you put them after your last birthday.” Fraser called through the door. A moment later the door flew open. Meg's nose was red and her eyes watery.

“That's not fair, Fraser, using your keen hearing and memory against others.” She scolded but lacked conviction.

“Yes, I suppose it is. May I come in?” He looked at his high browns for a moment before meeting her gaze once again.

“Come in, I guess I shouldn't pretend anymore, you already know what there is to know.” She shrugged, bone tired. The previous day had been long and hard, this one had been even worse.

Ben wished it hadn't taken Cara running away for her to confide in him. There were too many layers to their relationship to suit him. He liked things simple, but they so rarely were. Ben didn't know what to say or how to make Meg feel better.

“Have a seat, Fraser, don't look so glum, I've got that department covered.” It was morose, but Meg felt like crap. She felt like someone had cut her off at the knees. She took a seat behind her desk and leaned back to look at Fraser sitting across the desk from her. He sat so straight and so calm. Meg envied him that calm. As tired as she was, the lady Mountie felt the urge to take to the streets and turn over every rock to find her daughter.

“Yes, Sir.” Ben toyed with the brim of his hat, his mind turning their situation over from various angles.

“You don't have to call me that now, the bloom is off the rose, as they say.” Meg laced her fingers in front of her, sitting with her head against the back of the chair. Fraser's eyes flickered up to meet hers. He couldn't think any worse of her than Meg thought of herself. She didn't see how he could respect her any longer. She couldn't raise her own daughter, how was she supposed to maintain the helm of the consulate?

“To speak frankly, I'm certain you made the best decision possible in a difficult situation. Doing what is best for your child is no easy task, especially for one so young.” Ben tried to put himself in her shoes. Life, even for him, had been difficult during his teen years.

“I have to disagree, Fraser, leaving Cara with Ursula wasn't the best for her. My aunt is a cold, unfeeling woman who dominates everyone around her. She didn't want Cara for altruistic reasons, she simply wanted something she didn't have; someone to control. I was no saint growing up, but I should have fought for Cara far harder than I did. Ursula won and I lost my daughter. I betrayed my baby and Jake's memory.” Meg's throat ached from the tears she'd cried since the day before, making her hoarse and dry.

“We will find her, you will get to set things right.” Fraser tried to pull her back to the present, the past wouldn't solve anything.

“I know in my head that none of this is my fault, that Cara decided to run of her own free will, but my heart feels like it is my fault, that I don't deserve to get her back. I feel like I have so little to offer her.”

Ben couldn't imagine the pain Meg had been carrying around with her all this time. It explained a lot of her behavior, her walls, search for perfection and her drive to maintain appearances. She'd hung her self worth on what other people thought of her because she thought so little of herself. That saddened Ben. He admired her strength and wished she saw herself as he did.

“David Mallet said, _'Who hath not known ill fortune, never knew himself, or his own virtue'_.” Ben spoke low, his eyes fixed on Meg's.

“Don't play games, Fraser, say what you mean.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes red from crying.

“You wouldn't know yourself and your strengths without what happened. Learn from it and don't let Cara go without a fight this time.” He stated with clarity, leaning forward.

“Point taken, Fraser.” Meg sighed, reaching for a Kleenex. What she really wanted to reach for was something ninety proof with a kick. Blurring her already cloudy vision wouldn't do Cara any good and Meg knew it.

“I should take a cab home and get some rest before tomorrow. I haven't eaten all day.” Meg started to get up and found herself clutching the desk.

“Sit, Turnbull left dinner in the kitchen.” Fraser was there beside her in a split second, his hand on her back, guiding her back to her desk chair.

“I think I will.” She took a deep breath to straighten her swirling head. Fraser had already disappeared off to the kitchen. He returned with a tray for two in less than five minutes. Two soup bowls of hearty chicken and dumplings with buttermilk biscuits steamed.

“Here, take a sip of this.” He set the tray down on Meg's desk and pressed a cup of tea against her lips.

“Ick, that's too sweet.” Meg drank it anyway, glad to taste something for the first time all day.

“I'm afraid in my haste I over sweetened it.” Ben knelt down in front of her, his brows knit in concern. He saw a faint, embarrassed smile pull at the corners of Meg's lips when her stomach let out a dinosaur style roar.

“I'll be okay now.” She sat up and took a bowl of the southern comfort food from the tray and a spoon. Fraser took his seat across from her and his own supper. They ate in silence until Meg had finished her bowl, thoroughly enjoying the cooked chicken and fluffy dumplings.

“Turnbull should take up the culinary arts for a secondary career.” Meg dabbed her chin with a Kleenex to get the dumpling gravy off.

“There's apple pie warm in the oven.” Fraser volunteered.

“I'll get it.” Meg stood up and took the tray of dishes, leaving Fraser setting in her office. Things looked a lot less doom and gloom after she had her stomach full.

“Apple pie and coffee.” Meg set the tray down on her desk again and handed Fraser his dessert plate and fork as well as a steaming cup of coffee. She'd also brought the sugar bowl and creamer. For the life of her, Meg couldn't remember how Fraser took his coffee and she thought how shameful she hadn't even bothered to learn.

“Thank you kindly.” Ben stole a glance of Meg as she began eating her apple pie, digging out the filling first. This was the closest he'd had to a dinner date with a woman in months, well, actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten dinner with a woman.

“You're welcome, Fraser.” She gave him a half smile that didn't reach her eyes.

After dessert and coffee, Meg called a cab to take her home and gathered her coat, purse and briefcase. It was time to go home to her empty apartment and get some rest. With her bags in one hand, she tried to put her coat on with the other. Fraser had taken the dessert dishes to the kitchen. When he returned he caught her chasing her sleeve.

“Here, allow me.” He took her coat by the collar and lifted it onto her shoulder. He avoided her open gaze, focusing instead on her collar standing up on one side. Gently, he reached around with both hands and folded the coat's collar over properly. He ached to kiss her, to pull her to him and lock the world away for a few hours.

 _“She needs a friend, a support system just now, not a lover.”_ He thought, making himself take a step backward.

Standing face to face, Meg could smell the scent of Ben's leather polish and the cinnamon on his breath. She stood perfectly still, wishing he would make a move, say something, do something, anything. It was tiring being strong and Meg was bone tired of it, sick of it. She wanted to melt into him for a while, to take away a little sliver of Ben's seemingly endless supply of strength.

“Good night, Margaret.” He met her eyes, saying her name slowly, lingering over the syllables. For once she didn't hate her name. Ben's voice made it sound romantic, like something out of Shakespeare's plays.

“Good night, Benton.” Meg said his full name tentatively, savoring the sound of it in her ears, glad he'd given her permission to use it.

“I'll be here early in the morning.” She turned her mind back to the business at hand, there would be time for this later.

“I'll be here, should you need anything.” Ben offered neutrally, hoping the phone would ring later. Meg smiled and waved before walking out the door.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	8. 8

_**Cara ….** _

“Let's see, there's the museum, the park, shops, churches, those have the best architecture, maybe the riverboat tour.” Cara thumbed through her guidebook as she ate an apple for breakfast. Out of habit, she'd gotten up at seven o'clock, showered, dressed and packed her things. Most of the tourist attractions didn't open until nine or ten, but that didn't keep her from finding a quiet, sunny spot to sit and sketch for a while.

The teen had always searched people's faces, looking for her birth mother. Ursula had only told her she was adopted when Cara found the papers while cleaning out the attic when she was twelve. She'd broached the subject but neither her grandmother nor her mom would tell her. That's when the fights had started between Cara and Ursula.

“The boat tour, I've always thought Chicago had a beautiful view.” Cara decided with a pleased smile.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“And this is the last building on our tour ….” The tour guide pointed to a building seemingly within arm's reach of the tour boat's top deck. Cara had slipped in with a school group of high school seniors from Hazard, Kentucky. For an hour she'd sat with a shy boy wearing wire framed glasses. Every time she made eye contact he blushed and adjusted his orange and white striped polo shirt. Care tried to hide a smile when she first spotted his fanny pack. Most of the time she sat and sketched the buildings, keeping an ear on the forty-ish guide and her strong voice. The students around Cara talked, marveling at the structures, making jokes and having a good time. Their thick, southern accent sounded funny. As funny as Cara thought she must sound to them.

“Where are you from?” The shy boy beside her asked after thirty minutes of working up the nerve.

“Winnipeg.” Cara answered, smiling briefly as she sketched.

“Where's that near?” He persisted, looking at her sketch pad. His coal black eyes squinted, almost disappearing.

“It's in Canada.” Cara laughed. The boy reminded her of Fred Flintstone from the cartoons.

“Oh.” He scratched his head, making his coarse, black hair stand on end near the back. Cara flipped to a fresh page and began sketching his face in the Hanna Barbara style.

“I'm Jeremy.” The young man offered her his hand to shake.

“I'm Cara.” She took his short, broad hand briefly. She could tell he was a gentle soul.

“Are you here alone?” He watched her sketch, seeing himself emerge beneath her pencil.

“My mom's at the hotel, she didn't feel like coming.” Cara lied and hated it. The young man seemed like such a good sort.

“Please remain seated while the boat docks. Thank you for joining us for this Chicago Architectural Tour.” The guide spoke into the microphone.

“Here you go.” Cara pulled the sketch out and handed it to Jeremy.

“That's great, thank you.” He smiled, his almond shaped eyes barely peeking out from behind his cheeks.

“You're welcome.” Cara shrugged, glad someone had liked her work.

“Sign it, every artist should sign their work.” Jeremy handed her the page back.

“You think I'm an artist?” Cara took out an ink pen and carefully signed her name on the bottom corner.

“Yeah, I've been watching your work, you're good.” His ears were red as a blush rose up his neck.

“No one's ever told me that before.” Cara toyed with the corner of her sketch pad, embarrassed.

“Perry Central Students, this way.” Jeremy's gaze snapped to the front of the boat as his teacher called them to get up and come along. Cara slid out of the seat and let Jeremy out. Other people on the tour began to get up and file into the main aisle. Cara stuck to Jeremy, trying to blend in with the rest of the students. Once they were out of the boat and back to the streets, the Canadian teen followed them, keeping Jeremy's back in sight. A couple of boys about the same age as the seniors were walking toward the group. One of them spotted Jeremy and fell in behind him. Cara watched as the raggedy punk squeezed the fanny pack's catch open and took the man-purse. He ran full tilt down the side walk, Jeremy shouting every breath. Heaven help him, but the nice young man couldn't run worth a nickle. Cara peeled off and ran after the thief. She was faster, despite her shorter stride. After turning a few times and scaling a fence, she tackled the thief to the sidewalk, both of them skidding across the rough surface. Several people dodged the pair. Cara jumped to her feet first, scrambling for the fanny pack the young thief clutched beneath him.

“Give that back.” Cara demanded, grabbing the guy's hooded sweatshirt, trying to yank him to his feet. She became extremely mad when the thief called her something better applied to a female dog. A foot patrolman came up on the pair of them wrestling, Cara pinning the taller, heavier guy to the ground.

“Hold on here, what's going on.” The patrolman took Cara by the back pack and hauled her off the squirming thief.

“This little witch is trying to steal my bag.” The guy accused, his nose busted and a nasty split on his lower lip. He pulled up his baggy, black jeans with one hand, the cop holding his other sleeve.

“I did not, you stole it from one of the boys in that school group.” Cara countered, her long, dark hair a mess and her sweater askew.

“Where is this student the bag is supposed to belong to?” The patrolman asked Cara. He was old enough to be her father and had plenty of experience assessing these kinds of situations.

“I don't know, we made a few turns when we were running.” Cara crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the cop, her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Alright, we'll sort this out at the station, both of you are coming with me.” The cop let go of Cara to use his radio for back up. He kept an eye on her as he radioed. The Canadian teen puffed out her cheeks, wishing her short time of freedom had come to an end. A few minutes later a patrol car pulled up. The officers handcuffed the pair and put them in the rear of the car.

“I hope the Twenty-seventh isn't jam packed like it usually is.” The foot patrolman said to the other cop.

“Yeah, they're busy today, I've already been there once.” The driver said.

Cara saw a ray of hope, maybe she could sneak out of the precinct. She hoped her luck didn't run out.

_**The Consulate …** _

Meg arrived at the consulate at six the next morning. She'd slept, only because she was exhausted. Now the lady Mountie was dressed and ready for another day of searching.

“Inspector Thatcher?” Fraser's voice drifted through the building coming from the kitchen in the rear.

“It's me, Fraser.” Meg called, shrugging out of her trench coat. She tossed her things on a chair and walked back through the consulate. Fraser was in the kitchen, standing at the stove, frying an egg. Wheat toast popped up from the toaster just as Meg came to stand in the doorway. She took in the sight of her subordinate officer, his white undershirt pulled up to his elbows as he deftly handled the cast iron skillet and egg turner.

“Good morning, Inspector, there's fresh coffee if you'd like.” He met her gaze for a split second, the grease popping.

“Thank you.” Meg moved on into the spacious kitchen and opened the top cabinet for a mug.

“Blast it, I can't reach it.” She fussed as she tip toed to get the only mug clean on the top shelf, pushed to the back.

“Allow me.” Fraser set his finished eggs off to the side and reached over Meg to get the mug. She felt his chest brush her back as he set the mug beside the percolator. Time either stopped or he lingered. Meg wasn't quite sure which, but it was a full minute before he stepped back to the stove.

“Thanks.” Meg's voice sounded weak even to her.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Ben asked, sliding his eggs onto a plate.

“Yes, oatmeal.” Meg shrugged, eggs didn't sound any better than the oatmeal had tasted.

“I've got things to do, enjoy your meal, Constable Fraser.” After fixing her coffee, Meg turned to leave. He stood up, his napkin in one hand.

“Stay.” He almost barked. “I mean, I thought you might have had a chance to speak to your aunt last night.” Ben kicked himself. The best thing to do didn't jive with what he wanted to do. He wanted to ask her to stay so they could just talk for a few minutes, alone. The Mountie thought he saw the corner of Meg's lips turn up for a split second.

“No, I haven't talked to Ursula, really, I'd rather not, _ever_.” Meg pulled out a chair at the small, round table in the corner of the kitchen. She didn't want to feel the way she felt about her only aunt. Family was a special unit one was supposed to count on, not loathe.

“Perhaps your mother?” Fraser cut his eggs with a knife and fork before tasting them. Meg watched him distractedly. He shook the salt shaker over them just once.

“I thought about calling her, but it's been fifteen years since I've spoken to her. She probably wouldn't talk to me.” Meg toyed with her coffee mug, swirling her coffee around.

“I doubt a mother's love could be so petty.” Fraser met her gaze. She wasn't crying, but Ben could tell her tears weren't far away.

“My head tells me you're right but my heart,” She took a deep breath. “my heart tells me differently.”

Ben didn't know how to respond. He wished again that Meg could see herself the way he did.

“Would you like me to call, perhaps Cara has contacted one of your parents.” Fraser offered, hoping to have judged her reaction correctly.

“No, I'll call her. It's my place.” Meg sat up straighter and set her coffee cup on the table before leaving. Ben smiled to himself as he finished his breakfast.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“Hello, is Rosemarie Thatcher there please?” Meg asked, sounding professional and feeling shaky.

“Hello, Rosemarie here.” The voice was familiar but older sounding.

“Mom, it's Meg.” Three of the hardest words the lady Mountie had ever said.

“Meg who?” The older woman asked, not recognizing her own daughter's voice over the phone.

“Margaret Thatcher, your daughter.” Meg repeated.

“My Meg? It's been so long.” Rosemarie sounded amazed, and very near tears.

“Yes, Mom, I'm sorry, I should never have cut you out of my life.” Meg tried not to sob. It felt good to hear her mother's voice again.

“Oh Meg, my baby, I'm sorry too.” Rosemarie's voice was weak and scratchy over the phone.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Meg wiped her nose, tears dripping off her chin. The office was quiet and still dark. Turnbull hadn't clocked in yet and Fraser was still in the kitchen.

“Oh baby, its all forgiven, I'm the one who should ask for you to forgive me, Ursula adopting Cara was wrong.” Rosemarie's voice cracked. Meg heard her softly blow her nose.

“Has Aunt Ursula talked to you, do you know Cara's missing?” Meg asked quickly, hoping Cara had called her.

“No, she hasn't. Cara's missing, did someone take her while she was on that trip?” The older woman's tone was concerned.

“No, Cara came to the consulate where I work to report that her wallet and passport had been stolen. Her teacher called Ursula and she flew here to Chicago. They had an argument and Cara ran away, yesterday at two o'clock in the morning.” Meg explained, fear seizing her heart.

“I know they had a big blow out before Cara left on her trip. Cara wanted to take out a thousand dollars from her savings account for the trip. Ursula put her foot down and told Cara that she couldn't go if she were going to be so irresponsible with her money. You know how my sister is about money. Cara's worked since she was twelve to get to go on that trip, keeping her grades up, doing extra assignments.” The older woman rambled a bit.

“Do you think Cara will contact you if she's in trouble?” Meg asked between rambles.

“Yes, maybe, I've always tried to be supportive, making up for you I suppose.” Meg swallowed hard to keep from saying something she'd regret later.

“Please, let me know if she does, I can't lose her again, Mom, not like this.” The lady Mountie rattled off her phone numbers.

“Meg, before you go, I want to keep in contact with you. I know there were a lot of things I should have done different and I'd like to get to know you again.” Meg couldn't speak at first. She had expected her mother to still be mad, just like when she was a teenager.

“Okay, Mom, I'd like that.” The lady Mountie choked out.

“I love you, Meg.” Rosemarie answered, her voice still weak.

“I love you too, Mom.” Meg hung up the phone and began drying her wet face. Mascara had streaked down her cheeks and her nose was red and raw.

“Constable Fraser, are you busy?” Meg dialed his extension after she'd cleaned up her face.

“No, Inspector, do you need something?” Ben could tell that she'd been emotional from the stuffy sound to her voice.

“I wanted to talk.” She left it at that, simple was good.

“I'll be there in a moment.” He hung up the phone and in a minute was tapping at Meg's door.

“I called Mom just a few minutes ago. Aunt Ursula hadn't told her Cara was missing.” She informed him quietly. Fraser wasn't the only Mountie with ears like a bat.

“That's puzzling.” Ben didn't know what to say. From experience, he knew that one family member can insult a kinsman but an outsider would have the whole family to fight if they made the smallest slight.

“Fraser, I finally got to say I was sorry to Mom, we forgave each other.” Meg smiled, lighting up her whole face.

“That's wonderful.” He smiled back, glad that he'd suggested something that made her feel better.

“I have you to thank for it, Fraser, I'm grateful.” Meg wanted to cross the room and show him exactly how grateful, but she detected the slightest of a blush rising up Ben's neck.

“Happy to have helped.” He ran his thumb nail over his eye brow.

“Hello, anybody home?” Ray's voice interrupted the Mounties.

“In here, Ray.” Fraser popped his head out the Inspector's door and waved.

“Hope I wasn't interrupting somethin'.” The American detective took a sip of his still steaming coffee as he walked into Thatcher's office.

“Has there been any news, Detective?” Meg asked first thing, trying to sound more professional than she felt.

“Yeah, I have a couple of leads.” Ray pulled out his note pad and flipped it open to a page in the back. “A hotel over on Delancey, the manager said he might have seen her and a pizza joint over on Franklin, the owner's nephew said he saw a girl fitting Cara's description at lunch time.” Ray looked up to see a pained Meg and a concerned Fraser. They traded loaded glances.

“I'd like to accompany you to talk to these men, Detective.” Meg stood up and straightened her dark blazer.

“Okay, pitter patter, let's get at 'er.” Ray stowed his note pad in the hip pocket of his snug Wranglers and rubbed his dry hands together.

“I'll leave Constable Turnbull a note as to our whereabouts.” Fraser volunteered. After the previous day's outburst, he thought it best he go along, for Ray's sake.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	9. 9

_**The Twenty-seventh Precinct ….** _

Ray drove the GTO, through traffic easily, the muscle car thrumming as it idled at stop lights. He watched Inspector Thatcher in the rear view mirror. She seemed distracted, and by something more than Fraser. The Mountie seemed tense as well. Even Diefenbaker was quiet.

“So, what's the deal with this missing girl, her mother is a real piece of work.” Ray began. They were still a good way off from the precinct.

“In all fairness, Ray, you don't know Ms. Lawrence.” Fraser said, turning to his friend.

“Ah, after meeting that woman, I can see why the kid ran.” Ray waved his friend's gentle reproof away.

“Detective, do you always show such prejudice in your assessment of people you don't know?” Inspector Thatcher's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward from the back seat.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm just statin' my opinion of the woman.” Ray defended.

“The precinct.” Fraser interjected, glad to see the bland building housing the Twenty-seventh's finest.

_**Attempted Arrest …** _

Cara walked into the middle of the mess known as the bull pen. There were pink haired punk rockers with facial piercings, a jolly drunk trying to sing _'In the Pines',_ an old, bluegrass song, and a few women of the streets. She'd never seen such a place in her few, short years. She felt panic rise, making her tremble.

“I have to use the bathroom.” The teen whined, squirming uncomfortably.

“It'll have to wait.” The foot patrolman said off handed.

“When a girl says she's got to go, you'd better let her. It's that time of my cycle. If you don't let me go I'll sue.” She walked farther in, holding her stomach. No male teacher Cara had ever encountered had ever stopped her or her classmates from going to the can when they pulled that card. As long as they didn't use it too often it worked like a charm.

“Alright, but if you aren't out in five minutes someone's coming in after you, regardless.” The patrolman stopped by the nearest ladies room. Cara gave him her most innocent smile and went inside.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“I've got a few reports here, two of them sound like they may be our missing girl.” Ray walked through the precinct easily, stepping this way and that to avoid suspects and other officers.

“How many runaways could there be that fit Cara Lawrence's description?” Meg asked.

“Five foot, three inches, brunette, brown eyes, about a million. That could describe you, Inspector, Frannie, or the clerk in personnel.” Ray explained moving toward his desk through the foot traffic.

“Constable Fraser, I'll be just a moment, don't start without me.” Meg sounded detached, but didn't feel that way. Dief sat at Fraser's feet, looking from his human to the female as they talked.

“Are you alright, Inspector?” Fraser asked quietly, letting Ray go on ahead, out of ear shot.

“As well as can be expected. I'll be okay.” She gave him a shaky smile. The Mountie returned her smile before Meg pulled away.

“Hey, Frase, you comin' or what?” The energetic detective called loudly from his desk. Ben nodded, excusing himself through the bull pen. Dief wove his way through to his usual spot near the desk.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Meg pushed the ladies room door open and went inside past a uniformed officer holding a young man by the coat sleeve. The three stall facility was painted a dull, battleship gray up to the waist then a paler gray from there to the ceiling. It made the lady Mountie appreciate her nicely appointed, consulate restroom.

Disgusted, Meg used her elbow to open the middle stall and go inside. She heard the stall beside her open and someone walk out.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Cara walked into the bathroom, her mind frantic for a plan to escape. Her fingerprints would eventually lead the police to her mom. The academy insisted that each student be fingerprinted when they enrolled as part of a safe child identification program. Most students thought it was a tyrannical thing to do, but what could they say?

Cara looked in the mirror, taking stock of what she had to work with. The patrolman hadn't taken her backpack before she went into the restroom. It had all her clothes inside.

“I bet that dolt wouldn't recognize me if I changed my appearance.” Cara thought to herself. “This hair has to go.” She knew that it would be easier to take care of and keep clean if it wasn't down in the middle of her back. Quickly, the teen pulled out the pocket knife her grandmother had given her. Cara had hidden it in the lining of her purse to get it through customs. The single bladed knife was pink with a metal fan design in the hilt. Cara began to shear off long locks of hair. Fourteen inches of hair landed in the restroom sink as the teen shaped it into a rough pixie cut. It felt like a wet, wool toboggan had been lifted off her head.

“I should have done that a long time ago.” It made Cara look older and edgier. “Now to change these clothes.” She went into the stall against the wall and pulled out her last maroon, pleated skirt and put it on. Then she turned her backpack around to her front and pulled a sweatshirt over it. With the haircut and body change Cara felt satisfied that her own mother wouldn't recognize her.

Hearing the door open, the teen sat very still and waited until she heard the stall door beside her open and close. The woman in the next stall moved around a moment then sat down. Cara saw her opportunity and walked out. The patrolman waiting outside didn't even blink when she walked past him and down the hall. After she made it out of the building, the teen began to walk swiftly, knowing there would be chaos in the precinct as soon as the cops checked the restroom.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Meg blew her nose before washing her hands. Using the paper towel she'd dried her hands on, the Mountie opened the door and stepped outside.

“Hey, Ma'am, could I ask a favor, could you step back inside and check to see if there's anyone in there for me?” The uniformed cop asked, a hang dog expression. Meg eyed him warily.

“Just a moment.” She went back inside and checked the stalls, nothing. Then she opened the door, nothing again. The only window had security bars over it. She lifted a few strands of dark, long hair that had clung to the garbage can's lid.

“It's empty, Officer, it appears you've lost your suspect.” Meg informed him, holding up the strands she'd found. The patrolman swore softly.

“That girl must have had a set of clothes in her bag.” He lifted off his uniform hat and scratched his head.

“And she's somehow cut her hair to disguise her appearance.” Meg added dryly.

“Ha, now you got to let me go.” The young man the officer had hold of laughed, his grimy face leaning into the cops.

“I don't have to do squat, keep quiet and sit down.” The patrolman pulled out his radio and began reporting to his dispatcher.

“Inspector Thatcher, what's the matter?” Fraser's concerned voice broke through just as Meg was about to leave the patrolman to sort things out for himself.

“This officer has let a suspect escape custody.” Meg's voice dripped with disapproval.

“Yeah, the chick looked like she coulda been your sister too.” The young thief jutted his chin towards Meg.

“Cara!” Both Canadians said in unison, eyes wide.

“Yeah, that's what she told the pig here her name was.” The thief shrugged, his coat's hood off center.

“We're law enforcement as well, young man.” Meg informed him, affronted at his disrespect.

“Yeah, where from, Red?” The thief turned his attention to Fraser.

“The Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” The Mountie answered.

“Ha! So's that make you Canadian bacon?” the young man laughed at his own joke. Neither Canadian laughed, staring at him blankly.

“Jeez, grow a funny bone already.” The thief shrugged.

“Fraser, Cara's still in the vicinity. She's cut her hair as well.” Meg turned to her subordinate, her soulful eyes silently begging him to help her.

“You inform Ray and I'll go after her.” Fraser pulled his Stetson on and took off towards the front door, Dief in tow.

“Where'd Fraser go?” Ray walked up to the Inspector, puzzled by his unofficial partner's behavior.

“Cara Lawrence was brought in to the precinct, somehow she's eluded this officer here.” Meg hitched her thumb toward the uniformed cop still beside her.

“Are all you Canadians ninja like that 'er somethin'?” Ray asked, his mind already leaping ahead to the next step.

“I'll tell Welsh.” The detective volunteered.

_**The Search is On ….** _

Out on the street a throng of people moved like ants in a glass farm. The majority of them were far taller than Cara's five foot three. There would be almost no tracking her. Dief sniffed around the sidewalk, what he smelled only he knew. Fraser returned to the precinct.

“I need something of Cara's for Diefenbaker to get the scent.” Fraser spoke to Meg.

“A strand of her hair?” The Inspector asked. She and Fraser pushed the bathroom door open and Meg took two paper towels and removed the trash can lid in the corner of the small room. Carefully, Fraser removed a strand of the dark locks and left the bathroom.

“Hey, buddy, wrong can.” A chubby meter maid called as Fraser dashed out the door.

“Excuse me, but you can't use this restroom, it's currently a crime scene.” Meg informed the meter maid as she opened the door to the lady Mountie holding the trash can lid between her hands.

“Alright, clear out.” Welsh's voice boomed over the din of the bull pen beyond.

“Inspector Thatcher, will you please explain what's going on here?” Welsh asked as he peered in the ladies room door. Meg had a sense of de ja vu, only it was from Fraser's perspective.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Fraser held out the strand of hair for Dief to sniff when they got out of the precinct's doors. The half wolf took a long whiff of the dark locks and began to sniff the sidewalk, taking off down the street. Fraser scanned the crowd as he followed Dief's lead. He prayed the teen hadn't gotten into a cab or bus. The wolf wouldn't be able to detect her scent. Ben also prayed that for Meg's sake he could find Cara quickly. In the back of his mind he knew that she couldn't handle it if something happened to her daughter, especially since she'd never gotten to tell her the truth.

“Good, Dief, good.” Fraser bent low to see what the wolf had found. An errant strand of hair hung from a shoulder height limb of one of the city's many trees planted along down town. The wolf looked up then took to the scent again. He lost the scent half a block away, at a pizza place. The scent of cooking food had overwhelmed the wolf's senses. He sat down and looked up at Fraser, a whine in his throat.

“Good job, Dief.” Fraser opened the door to the pizza shop and went in, pulling out a copy of Cara's picture from his Stetson. He surveyed the patrons of the shot before going to the counter.

“Excuse me, Sir, have you seen this girl, she may have recently cut her hair very short.” Fraser explained to the young man manning the register.

“No, not today, but I've seen her before, a few days ago.” His name tag said 'Angelo'. “She in some kind of trouble?” He asked, surprised.

“She's runaway while on a school field trip from Winnipeg.” Fraser answered before he turned around and asked the rest of the shop if they'd seen the girl. All he was met with was a lot of blank stares.

“Thank you kindly.” The Mountie nodded to Angelo and took off out the door. Dief had nosed around and picked up the scent again. He took the lead, trotting briskly ahead of Fraser. When he came to a train platform a little while later he'd lost Cara's scent. Reluctantly, Fraser and Dief walked back to the twenty-seventh precinct.

“Did you find her?” Meg asked, hoping Cara was following him.

“No, I'm afraid not. Dief tracked her scent to one of the train platforms.” Fraser hated to tell her.

“I'm sure you did your best, Constable Fraser.” Meg had to swallow to keep from crying.

 _“But my best wasn't enough.”_ Ben thought to himself as he held his Stetson in his hands.

“Let's take her picture to the train platform, maybe someone saw where she got off at.” Ray suggested.

“That would be a good idea, Ray, thank you.” Fraser turned to his friend, his mask slipping, letting his concern show. Ray attributed it to Cara's hijinks.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	10. 10

_**Free Again …** _

Cara handed her money to the lady running the toll counter and took the next train headed anywhere. She'd seen the Mountie trailing her and tried to ditch him. Everything had seemed so much simpler when she'd thought of running away only two days before. Now things were beginning to feel very real.

 _“I have to get a place to stay for the night and something to eat.”_ She thought as she rode the train, surveying the city from a different perspective. On a whim, Cara got off on the third platform down the line from where she'd begun. Beyond the platform, she found herself in a low rent end of town. There were old and sometimes abandoned cars parked along the street and the houses were run down, their windows boarded up in places. A few older people sat out on their porches. Teenagers stood on the corners, talking, listening to loud, fast music. Cara felt out of place in the sea of mostly brown skinned citizens. She'd never been in such a place.

 _“I need to find a different place to stay.”_ She tightened the straps on her back pack and tried not to show her nervousness. _“I've put up with Ursula my whole life, I can handle anything.”_ Cara lifted her chin and took a deep breath. _“Maybe I can learn something, see something, in this part of the city.”_ She'd seen pictures of some of the graffiti art in the inner city but hadn't witnessed it for herself.

“Hey little girl, wanna go for a ride?” A loud, male voice called out from a passing car as Cara walked down the street. She'd changed back into her jeans and sweater for comfort. She just kept walking, ignoring the dark, older car following her down the street. The early afternoon sun made her squint as she navigated the broken cement sidewalk.

“I said, do you want to go for a ride, come on.” The male voice persisted, the car taking the right hand turn just as Cara did.

“No thank you.” She finally said, looking into the passenger window of the worn car.

“Oooh, did you hear that, Max, the little girl said 'No thank you'.” A younger man with slicked back hair slapped the driver on the arm, laughing. Cara felt anger rising, but kept her temper.

“This chick has manners or somethin', maybe I should ask her nice like.” The passenger said, his chocolate colored eyes watching Cara as if he were sizing her up, planning for later.

“Maybe you should go play with someone your own IQ, genius.” Cara retorted before she could stop herself.

“How 'bout I come play with you instead.” The passenger's tone turned dangerously low. He stepped out of the car, a handgun shoved into his waistband. He wasn't much taller than Cara but he was stocky, muscular, with beefy features.

“How about you don't.” Cara raised her fists and planted her feet like her self-defense instructor had taught her. It had been her favorite after school activity, allowing her to get out some of her anger.

The guy took a step toward her, his hands balled at his sides. Cara looked him in the eye and prepared for the oncoming attack. Her opponent took a big, right handed swing, exposing his gut. Cara planted her foot in his ribs, sending him sprawling backwards with a surprised cry.

“Ha!” She stood over him as he tried to pull himself back together for another try. That's when Cara's world went dark. The driver of the car had snuck up and cold cocked her with a short, wooden club.

_**Information ….** _

Ray informed Ursula of Cara's sighting over the phone. The bull pen was still a mad house, but had quietened down after a thorough search of the building. The ladies room was searched and dusted for prints. Meg, the thief and the foot patrolman were questioned and sent about their business. The patrolman was reprimanded. Welsh read him the riot act over losing a suspect and his disregard for procedure. Even Meg felt bad for the officer, and she'd had to give the same lecture on occasion.

The desk sergeant sat with his reading glasses perched on his broad nose, trying to fill out paperwork. Searching for the girl had gotten him behind. He didn't see the two men walk into the precinct, both of them looking lost and a bit bewildered.

“Hello, I'd like to report a theft.” The older gentleman spoke up, his voice as thin as a reed.

“Name please.” The desk sergeant gave up on getting his paperwork done.

“Hey, Joe, look what I have to book into evidence, a fanny pack.” A uniformed officer came up to the desk holding the black man-purse, snickering.

“Hey, that's mine.” The younger man opposite the sergeant spoke up, pointing a beefy finger at the bag.

“What's inside the bag?” The sergeant asked to make sure who it belonged to.

“A disposable camera, my cell phone, my room key, and my allergy medicine.” The young man ticked off the things he could remember inside the fanny pack. Unzipping the bag, the officer rummaged around until he found the prescription bottle of allergy medicine.

“Your name Jeremy?” He asked, reading the label.

“Yea, that's me, see my driver's license.” Jeremy pulled out his wallet and handed the officer his Kentucky state learner's permit.

“Alright, let me get the proper paper work.” The sergeant said, shuffling through the various, numbered forms required beneath the waist high counter.

“Hey, you the officer that took the theft report on the missing girl and the kid?” A blonde guy in jeans and a Bears' shirt asked the patrolman.

“Yeah.” The patrolman barely gave a civil answer.

“Where did you find them?” The blue eyed guy asked, his attitude just as thinly veiled.

“Excuse me, are you talking about a girl named Cara?” The young man on the opposite side of the front desk asked, pushing his glasses up.

“Yea, what do you know about her?” Ray introduced himself.

“I rode the boat tour with her, she did a sketch of me.” Jeremy said, pulling a piece of paper from his hip pocket. Ray took it and looked at the sketch then up at the teen.

“There's a couple of people here who'd like to talk to you.” Ray motioned Jeremy through the gate and towards his desk in the rear of the large room.

Jeremy had only ever seen a Mountie in the movies. His eyes nearly bugged out when he saw the red uniform on the tall man standing near the desk.

“Constable Fraser, RCMP, Inspector Thatcher, the same. Mind telling them about Cara?” Ray cut to the chase.

“I rode the tour boat with her, I asked if she was alone and she said her mom didn't feel like coming with her. When I asked her where she was from she said Winnipeg. She even drew a sketch of me, I guess I kinda reminded her of Fred Flintstone.” Jeremy answered grinning bashfully, trying to think of everything that had happened.

“Did she seem alright?” Meg asked, her tone as neutral as she could muster.

“Cara seemed fine, she seemed to be enjoying the tour.” Jeremy answered, wondering what was going on.

“Is she in some kind of trouble, is that why you're here?” The teen asked, concerned.

“No, she's in no trouble, she is however a Canadian citizen and it's our duty to assist with the search.” Fraser answered.

“May I see the drawing?” Ray handed it over to Fraser who studied it a brief moment before handing it to Meg.

“I'd like to get a copy of this if you wouldn't mind.” The Mountie smiled friendly.

“Sure, no problem, whatever will help, Cara sure seemed like a nice girl.” Jeremy shrugged, hoping things would work out for her.

“Do the cops think she stole my fanny pack?” He asked as an after thought.

“She was at the scene, she is a suspect.” Fraser hated to answer the question, especially with Meg within ear shot.

“Cara didn't do it, she tried to chase the guy who did steal it down. I couldn't keep up with her.” The teen admitted bashfully.

“Well, we'd better run with this guys, she couldn't have gotten too far from the train platform.” Ray interrupted, sensing Fraser had gotten all the pertinent information there was to glean from the Appalachian native.

“Thank you kindly for your assistance, Jeremy.” Fraser shook the young man's hand and turned to Meg, who held a copy of the sketch.

“Yes, thank you so much.” Meg took his hand, her eyes soft as she met his gaze.

“You're welcome, I hope you find her and everything's okay.” Jeremy wished with genuine concern.

“He's a nice young man.” Meg said as she followed Ray toward the parking lot.

“Yes, I think he was rather fond of Cara.” Fraser said after they were out of range to be overheard. Meg looked up at him, surprised he'd picked up on that. She shouldn't have been though, the Mountie, she knew, was extremely perceptive.

_**Reality Check ….** _

Cara woke up next to a dumpster, her backpack lying open beside her. Her head throbbed and she had various bumps and bruised. Taking stock, she found that the two guys had plundered through her stuff, stealing her pocket knife, some of her money, and torn up her sketch pad. All in all, Cara knew that she was lucky they hadn't killed her and tossed her body in the dumpster, or worse. She didn't want to think of the worse. The teen knew she didn't belong on the streets, but she wasn't ready to go back to Winnipeg; to Ursula.

Looking at the position of the sun overhead, Cara guessed it to be around four in the afternoon. She hadn't been out too long. Re-packing her things, the runaway got up and found her way to the sidewalk. She made her way past buildings selling any item imaginable and any legal service mentionable. Cara wanted to go back to earlier that morning when the world had been her oyster and Chicago it's glistening pearl. Near one of the city's parks she bought herself a pretzel for her dinner and wandered around, watching people and wondering if anyone missed her.

“What's a child like you doing here alone?” A gray haired woman sat down on the wooden bench beside her seemingly out of nowhere. She had a satisfied smile and lively blue eyes beneath her straight, white hair. Cara wanted to touch her luminescent skin it looked so soft.

“I'm just watching people, that's all.” Cara answered, her sketch book on her lap and her graphite pencil in her hand.

“I love to come to the park to do the same thing, people have always fascinated me, they way they look, the way they act, especially when they think no one notices.” She had a strong voice that reminded Cara of her grandmother when she told stories.

“I don't understand people sometimes though, they always want something or are trying to take something that isn't theirs.” Cara said, thinking of the thief who'd stolen Jeremy's fanny pack.

“Some people are, yes, but I've found that there are still a few good people left in this old world.” The old woman folded her hands over her tan sweaters decorated with embroidered pansies and leaves. She wore tan orthopedic shoes and a deep purple pair of slacks. Beside her on the bench was the woman's canvas tote, her sewing materials inside it's soft green folds.

“I suppose so, the Mounties I met the other day seemed nice, the lady Mountie was a little odd though.” Cara remembered, trying to remember her name.

“Oh, how so?” The old lady asked, her brows lifted as she watched a couple walk by arm in arm.

“She seemed nervous around me, kinda like she had something she wanted to say but couldn't for whatever reason.” Cara opened her backpack at her feet and pulled out the business card the Inspector had given her.

“Margaret Thatcher, funny name.” Cara mused, flipping the card back to the printed side. “Constable Benton Fraser, another funny name.” She saw the number on the front and turned the card back over. The first number under Meg's name was the same as the constable's, but the second had a different prefix. That seemed odd.

“Wonder why this number is different?” Cara showed the card to the lady sitting beside her.

“Hmm, perhaps it's her home number.” The lady suggested, handing the card back.

“Why would she put her home number on there?” The teen sat there puzzled.

“In case you needed help perhaps.”

“My mom says no one offers help without there being something in it for them.” Cara put the card in her pocket and leaned against the bench.

“But you know different, don't you. You see that there is both goodness and evil in the world.” The woman looked her in the eye, her lively blue eyes sparkling.

“You should help people because you want to; the joy of it, or because they can't help themselves.” Cara answered, holding the woman's gaze. She nodded, smiling like she knew a secret.

“I wish my adoptive mom were more like that Inspector Thatcher.” Cara thought back to Ursula's ultimatum. The Inspector seemed more reasonable.

“Do you know who your biological mother is?” The lady asked, a bit of noseyness creeping into her voice.

“No, but I plan on finding out as soon as I'm old enough.” She had determined that as soon as soon as she'd found out she was adopted.

“Oh, so you aren't currently old enough?” Cara stiffened at the woman's question. She'd said too much.

“I meant once I have more money.” The teen amended, running her fingers through her freshly cut hair.

“I see.” The woman said simply. She wasn't fooled and Cara knew it.

“Being adopted has its' challenges, struggling to figure out why your adoptive mother gave you up, if there was something wrong with her or if it's you.”

 _“You read my mind.”_ Cara thought to herself, her dark eyes wide in wonder.

“How do you know?” The girl asked, curious.

“This is my daughter, Pearl, I adopted her while I was an Army nurse in Vietnam.” The woman pulled out her wallet and showed her a photograph of a young, Asian woman and herself, both smiling as they embraced, posing for a picture.

“I couldn't have children of my own.” The woman put her wallet back in the big bag.

“Does she ever wonder what happened to her mother, the way I do?” Cara couldn't stop herself from asking.

“Yes, it's normal to wonder. We've gone to support group meetings for a while, most of the mothers there still love the children they gave up, most of them regret their decision, but it was the best one for them at the time. They were underage, in a bad situation or an abusive relationship. Now they're looking for those babies, praying for forgiveness. Wondering has been the punishment for their decision.” She watched the wheels in Cara's mind working, turning over this information, processing it and storing it away for later.

“I should get going, it's getting late.” The woman slipped her arm through her purse strap and stood up.

“Good luck finding your birth mother, you never know, she may be just around the corner.” She smiled down at Cara as she began walking off deeper into the park. The girl wished her a good evening with a wistful smile. She had a lot to think about.  
 _ **TYKTYKTYK**_

 

 


	11. 11

_**The Train Platform …** _

“It's getting late, are you two hungry?” Ray asked looking at Fraser in the rear view mirror as they drove toward the eighth train platform of the afternoon.

“I couldn't eat a bite.” Meg said, scanning the crowds on the streets as they drove.

“Perhaps later, Ray.” Fraser said, his eyes also scanning the crowds.

“I didn't eat lunch, my belly button's trying to gnaw on my backbone.” Diefenbaker barked his agreement. The detective pulled the GTO into a the parking lot of a fast food chain place.

“I'll get chicken nuggets for you. Anyone else want anything?” Ray looked from one Canadian to the other.

“No thank you, Ray.” Fraser answered after looking at Meg who simply shook her head.

“Can't say I didn't offer.” The detective muttered as he walked away from the car.

Ben studied Meg's reflection in the rear view mirror as she looked out the window at the people moving to and from the restaurant. There were faint circles under under her eyes and she seemed tired. Gently, he laid a reassuring hand on her upper arm, startling Meg.

“Yes, Fraser?” Meg turned around to look at him as he leaned forward in the back seat.

“She's alright.” He said tenderly.

“Cara was so close to me earlier in that restroom, Fraser, now she's on the run and all alone.” Meg shook her head, taking a deep breath to stem her tears.

“She's tough and smart, like her mother.” The Mountie smiled, trying to make Meg feel better.

“You are an optimist.” Meg chuckled despite herself.

“No, it's simply the truth, if you weren't both of those things you wouldn't have succeeded like you have after high school.” Fraser reminded her.

“It's difficult to remember that just now.” Meg looked out the driver's side window into the distance.

“Cara will come to be proud of you.” It was Ben's way of saying he was proud of her.

“Someday, maybe, but we have to find her first, Fraser. Every day she's missing the chances go down of finding her.” Meg left the _'finding her alive'_ , part out, it was too morbid.

“We won't give up.” Meg like the resolute tone in his voice. She gave him a tired, half smile.

“Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub.” Ray said, a bag of food in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other.

“What's this, Ray?” Fraser asked as the detective handed him a rectangular box and a drink.

“A double cheese burger, fries and a vanilla milk shake.” Ray responded, pulling another box out of the bag and handing it to Meg.

“No, I meant the Inspector and I didn't request anything.” The Mountie clarified.

“Yeah, I know, but I figured if I got it, you all and your manners, you'd feel obliged to eat.” He shrugged, pulling out another box for Dief. The last one he handed to Meg.

“It wasn't necessary, Detective, but thank you.” She opened the box and was surprised to find a chicken sandwich.

“You're welcome, Inspector.” Ray dove into his meal.

“I didn't know what to get you, but Ma and Stella always ordered chicken, hope you don't mind.” Ray said after finishing the first bite and washing it down with a chocolate milk shake.

“This is good.” Meg wrapped her sandwich in a napkin before taking a bite.

The three ate in silence until they were finished, each of them lost in thought. After depositing their trash in a nearby can, therefore keeping Ray's interior neat as a pen, the trio continued on their way to the eighth train platform.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Cara decided to try finding a place she without a night manager to stay for the night. The two thieves had hit her cash reserves pretty hard. From her walk through the darker side of town, Cara knew there were abandoned buildings, likely spots for a night's rest. She also knew that she wouldn't be the only one to think of that idea. The teen supposed she would just have to do the best she could and keep her backpack on during the night.

After walking for a while, until the glow of neon lights outshone the scant light of the sunset, she found a likely building. It was a three story, red brick apartment building built in the twenties. Cara spotted a broken window on the second floor beside the gutter. Cast iron fittings held the rickety pipe to the brick. The can-do Canadian poked around until she found a crate to boost her up until she could reach the nearest iron fitting. A few minutes later she fell through the window onto the hardwood floor of a second floor apartment.

“This has been nice at one time.” Cara thought as she looked around in the dim light of a security light outside. The doorways were rounded near the ceiling and a beam of eerie light shone through a sky light down the hall from the kitchen where Cara had landed. Carefully, the teen explored the one bedroom apartment. The bathroom was miniscule but the kitchen was large as were the living room and bedroom. In the living room there was a door leading out onto a balcony overlooking the street below the front of the building.

“I could see myself in an apartment like this.” the teen thought, imaging herself going to college, hanging out in the dining room with friends or watching television in the living room, maybe just sitting out on the balcony in the evenings, watching the world go by as she sketched.

A row of houses, some of them as old as the apartment building, lined the streets surrounding the red, jazz age building. As the girl watched the street below she saw a car cruising by, music spilling out of all four windows. The driver was in the middle of the road. Light shivered down the length of the polished, red metal as the car slowly cruised by. It was a fairly new Mustang, Cara knew because she liked cars; their colors and speed mostly. An old man walking his dog started to cross the street, the dog protesting. The man pulled the dog out into the middle of the street. Cara watched the car carefully, wondering if it was going to stop for the older gentleman. She was horrified when the car drifted right into the man's path. The dog barked, wiggling to get free of its' collar. Cara shouted but the old man didn't hear her either. She watched as the car struck the man, his form folding as it struck the hood of the automobile. Thankfully, the car hadn't been going more than fifteen miles and hour. The driver never even hit his brakes or slowed down. Cara trembled as she watched the Mustang drive off, gaining speed away from the scene. She saw the man lying in the middle of the street, his dog sitting at his side, barking for attention.

“Lord, let him be alright.” she uttered as she made her way back through the apartment and back down the gutter fittings. Cara ran to the man, kneeling down to check his pulse. He was breathing but moaning in pain.

“It's okay, Sir, I'll get help.” Cara tried to sound calm, but inside she was trembling. She looked up the street then down. It was dark where he was laying.

“Let's get you to the sidewalk.” Carefully, she dragged him by the shoulders to the sidewalk in front of a dark house. The dog, a gray, furry mutt, followed, whining as it walked slowly forward. Cara deposited the man as gently as she could, her muscles were burning from her round trip climbing the apartment building. She laid her backpack under his head then took off for the nearest house with a light burning in the front window.

“Help, there's been a hit and run.” The girl pounded both fists against the solid, wooden door. “Please, there's a man hurt.” She shouted again, tears beginning to well in her deep brown eyes. A man in his forties answered the door, a puzzled expression on his face.

“What's going on, who are you?” He scratched his thick but graying hair, a paunch pushing at his button down shirt and khaki slacks.

“A man was hit in the street, he's hurt.” Cara pointed toward sidewalk only a few yards away. The man poked his head out the door, hearing the incessant barking of the dog still by the injured man's side.

“Edna, call the ambulance, there's been an accident.” The home owner called back over his shoulder to his wife who was standing in the living room.

“What's going on, Herbert?” She called, walking toward the door.

“Just call an ambulance for Pete's sake.” He growled, slipping on a pair of rubber soled moccasins sitting by the door.

“Step inside while I investigate.” Herbert turned to Cara, hitching a short, wide thumb toward his wife.

“Yes, there's been an accident ...” Edna told the 911 operator, giving the address of her house, her back turned to the door where Cara stood.

 _“I want to go home.”_ Cara thought as she watched Herbert with the old man. _“Ursula might be a real witch, but it's still home.”_ The thought of the trouble she was in didn't seem so bad after the things that had happened to her. _“I'll wait until the cops arrive, they'll want to talk to me.”_ Cara sighed, wishing there were a way around all this.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

“Thank you kindly for your assistance, Detective.” Meg thanked Ray as she stepped out of the classic, muscle car.

“No problem, I'll let you know if anything turns up.” Ray waved as the Canadians stood side by side on the sidewalk in front of the consulate.

“Have a good evening, Ray.” Fraser leaned down to say good-bye through the window. The GTO pulled into traffic and was lost from sight in a moment.

“I should see if Turnbull left any phone messages for me.” Meg started up the front steps, her whole body dog tired. Fraser followed her, just a step behind. Dief already stood on the stoop, waiting. A dozen chicken nuggets hadn't been enough to satisfy him.

Once inside, Meg checked Turnbull's desk at the entrance. There were two messages from Ursula, one from her mother and one from Ms. Dolan, saying to call her at the hotel at the Inspector's earliest convenience.

“I guess she wants to know if she and boring Buckley can go back to Winnipeg with the rest of the students.” Meg sighed, checking her watch. It was seven o'clock.

“Should I call her, Sir?” Fraser asked, hoping to take some of the load off.

“No, it's Lieutenant Welsh's call, it should be cleared with him first.” Meg decided, glad it wasn't her decision.

“As to your aunt and your mother?” Fraser followed her into her office where Meg intended to check her voice mail.

“I'll call Ursula tomorrow and Mom when I get home.” Meg got busy going through the mail Turnbull had left for her on his desk. Very little of it amounted to a hill of beans.

“Is there anything I can do before I retire?” Fraser stood in front of her desk, his hands behind his back as she tossed nearly every other piece of mail.

“Have a seat, Fraser, there's no need to stand at attention right now.” Meg pointed a grocery store flier at one of the chairs opposite her desk. The Mountie took a seat, unsure of what she wanted.

“Cara's picture is with all the patrol cars and foot patrols in the city, we've visited all the places she's been spotted and kept tabs on her friends, is there anything we're over looking, Fraser?” Meg asked, her lips pursed as she tried to think of anything.

“No, not that I'm aware of, Sir.” Ben had turned it over in his mind a thousand times and come to the conclusion that Cara wouldn't be found until she wanted to be found. She'd been clever enough to elude trained officers, bribe her way into a hotel room and blend into a class field trip.

“It pains me that she's out there all alone, it's dangerous out there for a girl on her own.” Meg gestured to the city outside the consulate walls.

“Cara is a resourceful, capable young woman.” Fraser reminded Meg.

“She is, isn't she, escaping from a whole precinct, that takes wit and guts.” Meg smiled, proud of her girl.

“I miss Cara and I haven't even gotten to know her.” The lady Mountie's smile faded.

“How did you come to chose the name Cara?” Ben wondered. His father hadn't told him how his name came to be chosen. He'd often wondered how parents selected children's names.

“Jake told me once that he liked the name.” Meg leaned back in her desk chair. She'd almost forgotten that memory. “I laughed and told him it sounded like something out of the Carebears cartoons.” They'd both laughed at that one back then. Meg laughed again, thinking back to happier times. She noticed how Ben watched her, a sadness about him.

“Do you want children, Fraser?” Meg felt compelled to ask the rather personal question. His brow knit for a moment before he answered.

“Yes.” He said without elaborating.

Meg wanted to say so much; to tell him he'd be a good father, that it wasn't too late. Instead she smiled and let the moment pass. It was getting late and time to go home.

Ben had been surprised by Meg's question. Was it an offer in a left handed sort of way? He didn't know exactly how to answer but to keep it short. The Mountie wondered for a moment what she would look like holding a baby.

“I should get home, Mom always went to bed early, I don't know if she still does or not.” Meg stood up and gathered her purse from where she'd set it on the side of her desk.

“Have a good evening, Sir.” Fraser stood when Meg did, heading for the door to open it for her.

“You as well, Constable Fraser.” Meg meant it as she met his gaze. Together they walked to the entrance where Fraser again held the door for her.

“Thank you for everything, Fraser, I'd be a mess without your moral support.” Meg stopped in the doorway and turned back to him. She tip toed up and pressed a kiss against his cheek before turning to leave. Fraser stood in the doorway stunned as he watched her walk down the steps. She looked back and waved when she reached the bottom step. Ben put up his hand, otherwise motionless.

 _“His face was priceless.”_ Meg thought as she walked to the bus stop on the corner.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 

 


	12. 12

_**The Precinct Again ….** _

Cara told the cop on the scene what happened, even about what she was doing on the second floor balcony of a shut-up building. He'd scribbled away on his note pad for what seemed like forever as the EMT's treated the elderly man. Herbert talked to another officer, his wife hovering nearby. By the time the ambulance had arrived it seemed like the whole neighborhood had gathered to watch the red and blue spectacle.

“We'll need you to come down to the station with us, Miss.” The young officer said in a gruff voice. Cara sighed, knowing she was going to have to tell the story a dozen more times.

“What's going to happen to the man's dog?” She asked, the mutt at her feet for lack of an owner.

“Animal Control will take it until the gentleman's family can be contacted.” The officer answered.

“I know ole James, we can take the dog in.” Herbert volunteered from behind Cara.

“That's kind of you, Sir.” Cara breathed a little easier knowing the dog wouldn't leave its' neighborhood.

“Ah, he's a good neighbor, he'd do the same for me.” The pudgy guy shrugged, his hands shoved into his pockets.

The old woman's words from that afternoon came back to Cara. There was both good and bad in the world. She could be a source of good, of inspiration, but not as a runaway. It really was time to go home. But just because it was time didn't mean Cara didn't dread seeing Ursula.

“If you'll follow me to the patrol car, Miss.” The young officer said, interrupting Cara's thoughts. She followed him to the waiting vehicle, it's lights swirling overhead.

_**At the Precinct …** _

“May I make a phone call, it's local?” Cara asked the young officer escorting her to the bull pen.

“Sure, but keep it short.” He walked her over to an empty desk and helped her dial out of the building. Cara listened to the phone ring five times before anyone answered.

“Hello, Meg Thatcher speaking.” She sounded out of breath, like she'd just walked through the door.

“Inspector Thatcher, this is Cara Lawrence, we met the other day when my passport was stolen, you gave me your card and said to call if I needed anything.” With a shaky voice Cara tried to form her question.

“Cara, are you alright, where are you?” Meg rushed to ask, her mind spinning.

“I'm fine, I'm at a police station. I ran away from the hotel.” Cara sounded very young and very scared.

“Cara, sweetie, stay where you are and I'll be right there to get you.” Meg's mind switched into overdrive. “Right now let me speak to an officer, okay.” She waited for a moment until a man's voice answered.

“This is Inspector Thatcher of the Canadian Consulate here in Chicago, Cara Lawrence is a Canadian citizen. Watch her, don't let her out of your sight, she's already escaped from the Twenty-seventh Precinct earlier today. Now, what precinct are attached to?” She spoke fast but clear, hoping this officer had more sense than the foot patrolman.

“The twenty-seventh, Ma'am.” The officer answered, looking at Cara in a new light. She seemed young and innocent enough. He'd been fooled before though.

“I'll be there shortly, don't let her out of your sight, do you understand?” Meg used her 'Inspector' tone with him.

“Yes, Ma'am, I understand.” He heard the dial tone before he finished the last word.

Meg hung up and dialed the consulate. Fraser answered on the second ring with the standard answer.

“Fraser, hush, it's me.” She cut him off quickly. “Cara's in Welsh's precinct, meet me there quickly, please.” Again, Meg hung up.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

Ray and Fraser were at the precinct before Meg arrived. She pushed through the officers and suspects in the bull pen toward Ray's desk.

“Cara, are you alright?” Meg saw the teen sitting in a chair opposite the blonde detective, Fraser beside her. He stood up to make room for her.

“I'm fine, Inspector Thatcher.” Cara said, surprised by Meg's reaction.

“Thank goodness.” Meg sank down into the chair beside the girl, her heart beating like a hummingbird's. “I've been so worried about you.” She took Cara's hand and squeezed it.

“Ray, is there an interview room empty?” Fraser spoke to the detective who was watching the scene unfold.

“Yeah, Fraser, why?” He tore his gaze away from Meg and Cara.

“I believe the Inspector and Miss Lawrence should speak privately.” Fraser said without going into detail.

“Give me a minute.” Ray got out of his chair, puzzled at the three Canadians. “A word, uh, Frase.” He pointed a toothpick he'd been chewing on toward the row of four rooms around the corner from the bull pen.

Once they'd found an empty room the detective spoke. “Fraser, what in the hell's going on with Thatcher, she's had a bee in her bonnet this whole, screwy case.” Ray had one hand on his hip, gesturing with the other.

“I'm not at liberty to discuss Inspector Thatcher's business, Ray, I'm sorry.” Fraser gave him an impassive answer.

“Thatcher and that kid look enough alike to pass for sisters, or mother and daughter.” Ray jabbed his index finger in the air, his keen eyes detecting a subtle shift in the Mountie.

“That's it ain't it, the kid is Thatcher's family somehow.” Ray took it and ran.

“Ray, we really should be getting back to the Inspector.” Fraser rubbed a thumb across his brow, feeling torn between his boss' confidence and his friend. Together they left the interview room, heading back toward the bull pen.

_**TYKTYK** _

“What's going on Inspector Thatcher?” Cara took a seat in one of the chairs, her dark eyes wide with confusion.

“I have something to tell you, sweetie, it might be difficult to understand at first.” Meg took a seat across from her, the table between them.

“Is my grandmother alright, she's got diabetes and she doesn't see very well.” A million things ran through the teen's mind.

“Rosemarie's alright, I've spoken to her, she's worried about you, but she's fine. What I have to tell you is, I know who your mother is.” Meg dug through her wallet until she found the picture. She slid it across the table to the confused teen. Next came the baby bracelet.

“Who's this?” Cara flipped the photo over and read the name: _Meg Thatcher and Cara, June 26._

“That's my birthday,” She turned the photo back over and studied the young woman holding a baby in a pink blanket. Cara looked at Meg then back at the picture.

“You're my mother?” Cara shook her head, confusion swirling.

“Yes.” Meg had imagined this day a million times, but none of her day dreams prepared her to tell Cara the truth.

“Why?” The simple question had a dozen answers. Cara's eyes welled up as she stared at Meg.

“I was a teenager like you are now, your father, Jake Franklin, was killed in a car accident six months before you were born, I was in the truck with him when it happened. I wasn't good for anyone for a while after that. I was wrong to let you go, Cara, I hope you can forgive me.” Meg put her hand over her mouth, feeling her own tears well up.

“Didn't you want me? Why didn't you ever come back for me?” Cara asked, her questions feeling like needles in Meg's heart.

“I wanted you more than I wanted to live, Cara. Ursula made it clear that she didn't want me to have anything to do with you, I've always loved you, more than anything in this world.” Meg's voice broke on the last word.

“Grandma wouldn't tell me anything about you either, she said that my birth mother loved me and that if she had things to do over she'd have seen to it I ended up where I was supposed to be, that's all she's ever told me.” Cara brushed her tears away with the back of her index finger.

“After I had you and signed the papers I went to a boarding school for troubled girls, from there I went into the RCMP. I never tried to make contact with Mom or Ursula.” Meg dug a small package of Kleenex out of her purse and took one, sliding them over to Cara.

“So the day I walked into the consulate, that's why you were so interested in helping me?” The teen began putting the pieces together.

“Yes, I wanted to tell you right then and there, but I didn't think you'd believe me.” Meg laughed, it felt like forever ago that she'd met Cara.

“I shouldn't have run away but I'm kind of glad I did. That thief would have made off with Jeremy's fanny pack and that old man tonight might have died when the car hit him.” Cara thought back to everything that had happened over the last few days.

“You're a brave girl, Cara, I'm proud of you.” Meg reached across the table and took her hand. When the girl squeezed her hand and smiled, Meg knew she wouldn't object to a hug. She rounded the table and took the third chair in the room, wrapping her arms around her daughter for the first time in over fifteen years.

“I'm so glad we found each other.” Cara said as she laid her head on Meg's shoulder and let out a soft sob.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Meg squeezed her tight.

_**TYK** _

Ursula stormed into the bull pen, her face red. “Where's Cara?” She demanded, stalking toward Fraser.

“Good evening, Ms. Lawrence, Cara and Inspector Thatcher are in interview room two.” Fraser informed her.

“Take me to her, Constable.” Ursula's voice was low and angry.

“This way.” Fraser directed her across the bull pen and to the left. He opened the door to the interview room for her.

Meg sat in a metal chair beside Cara, tears in both their eyes.

“Come on, Cara, it's time to leave.” Ursula snapped her fingers

“No, I'm not leaving with you.” Cara's dark eyes turned cold.

“You disrespectful child, and after I put food on the table, clothes on your back and I pay a fortune to send you to that fancy school.” Ursula leaned on the table, in Cara's face.

“I don't care about any of that, they would have done the same thing in an orphanage, and I have a scholarship to the academy, it has nothing to do with you.” Cara leaned forward, dishing it back at her.

“Then I hope you enjoy an orphanage, you're no longer welcome under my roof.” Ursula gritted her teeth, standing up straight.

“Leave, Ursula, you're done here.” Meg stood up, finally finding her voice.

“The two of you deserve each other.” Ursula looked from Meg to Cara and began to leave. Meg beat her to the door, blocking her way.

“I let you bully and manipulate me when we were younger, Ursula, you were controlling and spiteful, that's all well and good for me, but I won't let it go on, not to my daughter. She's done nothing wrong to deserve your scorn or your hatefulness.” Meg's voice was low and deathly cold, her face only inches from Ursula's. They were near the same height, eye to eye.

“If I had been as strong as Cara you never would have gotten your hands on her, I could have loved her and taken care of her the way she deserves. Instead she's put up with your controlling, petty ways.” Meg pointed her finger back at her daughter, who sat with eyes wide open, amazed.

“I raised her better than you could have, Margaret, you were nothing but a selfish little whore.” Ursula stuck her finger in Meg's shoulder, pushing her. That was the wrong thing to do. Meg reached out lightning quick and slapped Ursula's face open handed. There was a red hand print across the other woman's face.

“Go home, Ursula, leave Cara to me.” Meg hissed, opening the door for her aunt to leave.

“You can have the little brat, you'll be knocking on my door to take her back in a month.” Ursula slammed the door behind her. Cara sat at the table, crying. Meg turned from the door to focus on her daughter.

“Oh sweetie, she's so wrong about you, I can't believe I was so stupid to give you up.” Meg pulled up a chair and took her daughter in her arms, letting her cry into her shoulder. Timidly, she began patting Cara's back and talking in a low, soothing voice.

“It's going to be okay, sweetie, you may not see it now, but things will change and all this will be a bad dream.” Meg knew from experience that time helped to heal even the deepest wounds. They sat together for a while.

TAP TAP TAP

“Come in Constable Fraser.” Meg said, still cradling Cara as she cried. The Mountie stepped into the room, took one look and turned to leave.

“Fraser, stop, it's alright.” Meg beckoned him with one hand, her other hand stroking Cara's pixie cut.

“I hope I'm not intruding, Sir.” Fraser felt entirely out of his depth, out of his field and like he was playing hockey on a soccer field.

“It's okay, what is it, Fraser?” Meg looked at him, her professional walls gone. Whatever else she felt for Benton Fraser, Meg also felt overwhelming gratitude for his patience and determination through it all.

“I came to see if you were alright.” He ran his thumb up the back of his ear, tugging it nervously.

“Cara is going to stay with me tonight, we've got a lot of catching up to do.” The girl sat up, wiping her eyes and softly blowing her nose.

“Does he know?” She asked Meg.

“Yes, Constable Fraser knows everything. He's been a real friend to me through this.” Meg smiled at him, her moist eyes shining in the overhead light. He was her knight in red serge, always nearby to protect her.

“What happens now, I mean about the hit and run?” Cara let a few, final, tears slip down her cheek.

“Mr. French is in good condition, he's likely to make a full recovery. If you hadn't acted quickly he wouldn't have fared so well.” Fraser informed her.

“That's wonderful, it was awful the way that car hit him, they didn't even slow down, they just kept going, like they'd hit an aluminum can instead.” Cara's hands shook, just remembering the scene.

“I'll ask Ray if you can give your statement in the morning, once you've rested properly.” Fraser took a step toward the door.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser, for letting me know about that old man.” Cara smiled, looking for the world like Meg's twin.

“My pleasure, Cara.” He nodded, returning his smile.

“Inspector, I'll escort the two of you home when you're ready.” The Mountie offered. It was getting late and Ben knew he'd feel better if he saw them safely home himself.

“Very well, Fraser, thank you.” She nodded, her voice stronger. He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving them alone once more.

“He's something special isn't he?” Cara said, wiping dried tears from her cheeks.

“Constable Fraser is an excellent officer, very dedicated.” Meg answered.

“I can see that, I meant he's something special to you.” Cara watched Meg carefully, noting the red creeping into her face.

“Fraser is a good man, like I said, he's been a good friend to me though this.” Meg answered truthfully.

“Hmm, a good friend, I think he'd be a good step-dad.” Cara offered, half teasing, half serious.

“Cara Elizabeth!” Meg's jaw dropped before she started to smile shyly.

“Does he feel the same way you do?” The girl asked, a devilish glint to her dark brown eyes.

“I don't know, he wouldn't say anything if he did, I'm his commanding officer.” The Inspector said with a sigh.

“I saw the way he looked at you, I bet he does.” Cara leaned her chin on her hand. She yawned, tired to the core.

“We should get you to bed, tomorrow's another day.” Meg stood up, gathering her purse and coat.

“I could use a shower first, maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” The teen stood up too.

“Maybe I'll order a pizza to be delivered.” Meg suggested, trying to think if there was anything in her pantry besides rice or Raman Noodles.

“Uck, no thanks, I've eaten pizza a dozen times in the last week.” Cara whined.

“Good, I prefer Chinese anyway.” Meg opened the door.

“You could invite Constable Fraser.” The girl suggested, teasing.

“Okay, Cupid, enough is enough.” Meg just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _

 


	13. 13

_**Meg's Apartment …..** _

“I'm glad that I didn't have to tell the detective about the hit and run again tonight.” Cara yawned as they rode up the elevator. It had been a long, tiring day for the teen.

“We'll go down to the precinct tomorrow, hopefully things will be more settled by then.” Meg tried to suppress her own yawn.

“Will you be taking the day off tomorrow, Inspector?” Fraser asked, as the elevator progressed slowly upward.

“I hadn't thought that far ahead, but yes, there are a lot of details to be sorted out.” Meg tried to make a mental to-do list but her brain felt fuzzy from excitement mixed with exhaustion.

“I'll inform Constable Turnbull of your absence tomorrow morning.” Fraser volunteered. He saw the way Cara watched him interact with Meg, a secretive, knowing smile on her lips.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg turned to look at him, their eyes locking for a moment.

“You're welcome, Inspector.” He nodded, the brim of his Stetson bobbing forward.

“Fifth floor, all out.” Cara interrupted the pair. She was so tired she was beginning to feel loopy. Fraser waited until the girls had exited the elevator before he moved. He strolled along behind them to Meg's door. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Make yourself at home, Cara, see if there's anything in the kitchen you'd like to snack on until I call for Chinese.” Meg tossed her purse into an arm chair near the door. Ben stopped at the front door, watching the teen look around Meg's apartment.

“Come in if you'd like, Fraser.” Meg invited, lingering near the door way.

“I should be going, I'm certain that you'd like to have some time alone with Cara.” He bowed out gracefully.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Meg smiled, turning to see her daughter settle down on the couch with a PB&J sandwich. “This is a dream come true.”

“I should be leaving, have a good night.” Ben smiled, relieved to see mother and daughter reunited. Meg closed the door and stepped out into the hallway with him.

“I meant what I said, Fraser, I would have been a mess without your support, thank you.” The lady Mountie felt the nervousness welling up in her stomach.

“No thanks are necessary, Ma'am.” Ben shook his head, gesturing with his right hand.

“I believe they are, Fraser, you listened to me and didn't judge me by my past mistakes. That means a great deal to me.” Meg looked him steadily in the eye, her voice soft. “You mean a great deal to me.” She laid a hand on his forearm. Ben looked down at her small hand, surprised by the contact.

“You mean a great deal to me as well, Meg.” He said her name softly, tarrying over the three, little letters of her name. She felt his free hand lay gently over hers, the smile on his face as bright the noon day sun.

“Good night, Ben.” Meg closed the gap between them and softly kissed his cheek.

“You as well.” He held on to her hand once she'd set back down on her feet.

“I'll check in with you tomorrow.” Meg said wistfully. They reluctantly pulled apart, eyes still locked.

“Looking forward to it.” Ben nodded before turning to walk back down the hallway.

_**The Other Side of the Door ….** _

Cara sat down with her PB&J sandwich, looking around the apartment from Meg's couch. It was comfortably furnished, with a dark brown, suede couch and two, matching arm chairs. A painting of a herd of wild horses hung above the television stand, framed in black lacquer. A single, brass horse sat on the top of the entertainment center. A turntable sat on the shelf beside the television, a stack of records below. Brass colored lamps sat on heavy, black end tables on each side of the couch.

Cara finished her sandwich and milk, then she laid over on the couch. It was long and comfortable. Before she knew it, the teen was sound asleep, her shoes still on. Meg walked through the door, her spirits soaring. She found a fleece throw and laid it over the girl, kneeling on the carpet to remove her Converse sneakers.

“Good night, Sweetie, I love you.” Meg whispered as she ran her fingers through Cara's short locks. Turning out the lights, she felt a peace she hadn't felt since childhood. If just for the night, all was right with the world, Meg's world.

_**The Next Day ….** _

“Hey, Inspector Thatcher, Cara.” Ray greeted the pair as they wove through the busy bull pen.

“Good day, Detective, how are you?” Cara replied, smiling from ear to ear.

“Good to see you together, how are things?” The blond detective pushed aside the paperwork he was supposed to be working on in favor of shooting the breeze with the Canadians.

“So far so good.” Meg looked at Cara, her own happiness evident by the megawatt smile on her face. “I have my daughter back.” The lady Mountie almost giggled when Ray nearly strangled on a sip of his coffee. That explained the resemblance.

“I was supposed to give my statement to a detective this morning about the hit and run.” Cara dove into the purpose for their visit.

“Sure, I can do that, have a seat.” Ray searched through the forms Fraser kept in order for him. The teen sat down across from him and took a deep breath before starting her story. To Meg's surprise the usually impatient detective listened attentively as Cara narrated, only asking a few questions as needed.

“Alright, that should do the job, I don't have any more questions for you but I need your phone number and stuff.” Ray turned the paperwork over to Cara to review and sign.

“Have you heard how Mr. French is doing in the hospital?” The girl asked, hoping for good news.

“Fraser said that he'd broken his left leg and he's all bruised up but otherwise fine.” He could tell that Cara was relieved to hear it.

“Good, I'm glad.” She sighed, “I'd like to go see him if I could.” Cara turned to Meg.

“Okay, sweetie, we'll go later.” She gave her a reassuring smile.

“Good day, Inspector Thatcher, Cara.” Mr. Buckley's voice interrupted the conversation.

“Mr. Buckley, I wasn't expecting to see you.” Cara shook the man's pudgy hand.

“Ms. Dolan took the rest of your classmates home two days ago. I wanted to see the both of you together before I left myself.” He looked from Cara to Meg.

“Mr. Buckley was my high school history teacher when I was your age.” Meg leaned over to tell Cara. “If he caught a student sleeping he'd knock their book off onto the floor to wake them up.”

“I tried that on this one one day but she surprised me and slapped her hand on it before I could get to it.” Buckley chuckled. Cara laughed while Meg looked uncharacteristically shy.

“I felt so bad for you when Jake died the way he did. And he would have loved you.” The old gentleman said as if to himself, but talking to both Meg and Cara.

“Jake was a dear soul, he loved to laugh and tell jokes, pull pranks on his friends.” Meg reminisced. “I wish you'd gotten to know him.” She turned to her daughter, her dark brown eyes moist.

“Are his parents still alive?” Cara asked, looking from Meg to Mr. Buckley for an answer.

“I believe so, yes, last I heard they still lived in Winnipeg.” The old gentleman tried to recollect the information, scratching his scantily haired gray head. An alarm on his watch began peeping.

“Ah well, I'd better get going, my plane leaves soon.” Mr. Buckley sighed, wishing he could talk a while longer.

“Have a good flight, Mr. Buckley.” Meg stood up to give the old man a quick hug.

“I'm so proud of you, Meg, take care of yourself.” The old gentleman wished her.

“I hope to see you in school soon, young lady.” Buckley shook his chubby index finger under Cara's nose. She smiled up at him innocently.

“Take care, Mr. Buckley.” She shook his hand.

The old man walked through the bull pen slowly, meeting Fraser along the way. The Mountie shook his hand and wished him good-bye.

“Hello all.” Ben wished the trio, taking off his Stetson and setting it on it's usual perch.

“Hey, Frase, why didn't you tell me Cara was Thatcher's daughter?” The detective asked right in front of the Inspector.

“I told you I wasn't at liberty to discuss Inspector Thatcher's personal matters told to me in confidence.” The Mountie shrugged, fiddling with one of his uniform buttons.

Meg didn't know what to say to that. She'd never intended to make a secret of Cara. It had been easier not to talk about the greatest loss of her life, but her baby was never a secret.

Ben saw Meg's reaction to his answer for Ray's question and regretted his words. He wasn't certain if he'd hurt her feelings or offended her.

“My apologies, Inspector Thatcher, I …. ” He tried to explain but she put up a silencing hand.

“No need, Fraser, Cara was never a secret but I can understand why you would chose discretion over full disclosure. I wasn't clear the other day at the hotel.” Meg forgave him, her gratitude outweighing her annoyance.

“So, what are your plans now that you've found each other?” Ray changed the subject, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Cara is going to stay with my mother during the school year and we'll make arrangements to be together for the holidays.” Meg answered, pleased smiles on her face as well as Cara's.

“Meg is going to come back to Winnipeg for a few weeks so she can visit me and Grandma.” Cara volunteered.

“Your adoptive mother rolled over, just like that?” Ray snapped his fingers, leaning back in his swivel chair.

“Ursula has agreed to forfeit her parental rights to my mother.” Meg answered. She'd spent two hours on the phone with Rosemarie that morning. Ursula had called her straightaway after her confrontation with Meg. She'd told Rosemarie she was cutting all ties with her, Cara and most definitely Margaret, as she had always insisted on calling Meg. Rosemarie had told her that it was her decision and that she considered it final.

“May I walk you back to the consulate, Inspector?” Fraser asked, changing the subject.

“We were just going to go to lunch then to the hospital to see Mr. French.” Meg said, hoping Fraser still wanted to tag along.

“Oh, I see.” Ben looked down at his high browns, disappointed.

“Can I still sketch you and Diefenbaker, Constable Fraser?” Cara asked to break the awkward silence.

“Yes, of course, when ever it's convenient.” The Mountie's face lifted.

“Later today, is that okay, Meg?” Cara asked, turning to her mother.

“Yes, that would be fine.” Meg nodded.

“Three o'clock at the consulate, Constable Fraser?” The lady Mountie said, her tone somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Yes, Inspector.” Fraser answered, meeting her gaze.

Cara gave Ray a mischievous smile and a wink. A slow, knowing smile spread over the lanky, blond detective's features.

“We should find somewhere for lunch, Cara.” Meg stood up, gathering her jacket. “What would you like?” She asked the teen.

“I didn't get my Chinese last night, does that sound good to you?” Cara suggested, gathering her purple, hooded sweat jacket.

“I know an excellent place, Li's Panda Hut.” Meg nodded to Fraser as she passed him, a quick, bright smile on her lips.

“Are you hungry, Ray?” Fraser took a seat across from the detective, Stetson in hand.

“Yeah, I'm always hungry.” Ray closed the folders he'd been working out of and stood up to got to lunch with his friend.

_**TYKTYKTYK** _


	14. 14

_**Three o'clock …..** _

After lunch and a visit to the very grateful Mr. French, Meg and Cara arrived at the consulate just in time for tea.

“Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher.” Turnbull greeted his boss happily.

“Constable Turnbull, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Cara Lawrence.” Meg smiled, proud to be able to say Cara was her daughter.

“Miss Lawrence, hello.” The junior Mountie shook her hand politely.

“Pleased to meet you, Constable.” Cara smiled up the tall Mountie.

“Where's Fraser?” Meg asked Turnbull, shrugging out of her coat.

“He's in his office, shall I tell him you wish to see him?” The junior Mountie inquired, taking Meg's coat.

“Yes, please tell him we'll be in the sitting room.” Meg thanked him and led Cara into the sitting room, a formal, but still comfortably appointed space. A row of four windows lit the cream colored room with afternoon light.

“I'll go make some tea, I think I hid a pack of Oreos from Turnbull last week.” Meg said to herself. She stood up to leave the room, trying to remember where she'd put the cookies when she heard Fraser's tap at the door.

“Come in, Constable Fraser.” Meg opened the door and admitted the Mountie. Diefenbaker trotted in behind him.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Ben greeted them, his Stetson under his arm. Diefenbaker trotted over to Cara and allowed her to run her fingers through the fur down his back.

“Constable Fraser, hello.” The teen greeted him, a cheerful smile brightening her features.

“Do you still wish to sketch Dief and myself?” Ben seemed nervous while Dief sat calmly at Cara's feet.

“Yes, if you don't mind.” Cara motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa, Dief at his feet.

“I was just about to make tea, would you like some, Fraser?” Meg offered, still on her feet.

“Yes, if it wouldn't be any trouble.” He turned to answer as Cara took a seat in an arm chair across from the couch.

“Have you and Meg worked together long?” Cara asked, her eyes darting between her open pad and the Mountie on one side of the hunter green couch.

“A year and a half, she's a fine officer.” Ben admitted without reservation. He stared straight ahead. Diefenbaker sat off to the side, proud and regal.

“What do you think of her, off-duty?” Cara persisted, concentrating on Dief's fur.

“She's a remarkable woman.” Ben swallowed hard, wondering what Meg had told the girl.

“I can tell she thinks you're _'remarkable'_ , as well.” Cara smiled, remembering the way Meg's eyes lit up when she saw the Mountie walk into the bull pen and the way she hadn't taken her eyes off him.

“She does?” Ben's brows lifted, surprised, despite Meg's revelation of the night before.

“She does what?” Meg said, entering the room carrying a tray of tea and Oreos.

“Constable Fraser was just telling me you two have worked together for over a year now.” Cara answered before Ben could.

“Eighteen months and two weeks.” Meg clarified, fussing with the tea on the coffee table. She shot Ben a sideways glance, seeing surprise in his green eyes.

“Hardly a moment in the grand scheme of things.” Ben said, the side of his lips twitching to smile.

“Sit down and I'll sketch the both of you.” Cara leaned forward, pointing to the seat next to Fraser. Meg complied, taking the seat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Come on you two, closer.” Cara motioned with both hands for them to close ranks. Meg scooted over, nearly a foot still separating them.

“Oh, come on, act like you like each other.” Cara persisted, pursing her lips in annoyance. Meg shot her a reprimanding glare but scooted over more.

“That's better.” The girl returned to her sketch, Diefenbaker almost finished.

“How do you take your tea, Fraser?” Meg asked, pouring from the porcelain tea pot.

“Two sugar lumps, no cream, thank you kindly, Inspector.” Ben answered, taking the cup she offered him. Their hands touched for a moment, catching them both by surprise.

“You're welcome, Fraser.” Meg smiled, pulling away.

“How do you take your tea, Cara?” The lady Mountie wondered aloud, catching a knowing twinkle in her daughter's eye.

“Cream and two sugars, please.” The teen answered without looking up from her sketch. Meg handed her a cup and saucer with three cookies on the saucer.

“When do you leave for Winnipeg, Inspector Thatcher?” Ben asked, his mind working ahead.

“Late tomorrow evening.” Meg answered. She hated leaving the consulate, even knowing Fraser would be there to take care of it in her stead. She didn't want to leave him, not since their relationship had begun to grow, slowly, but grow just the same.

They sat in silence for a while as Cara concentrated on her sketch. Their silence gave her time to watch them, the way they'd sneak glances at each other, how stiffly Fraser sat next to Meg and the way she sipped her tea coquettishly.

“Finished.” Cara unfolded from the arm chair and turned the portrait around to show the both of them.

“It's so lifelike.” Meg marveled as her eyes drank in the details.

“This is quite excellent, Cara.” Ben agreed, noting the detail she'd taken with his uniform's insignia, down to the crest on his buttons.

“Thank you, I enjoy sketching, I'd love to learn oil painting and maybe graphic design.” The teen smiled brightly.

“I'm proud of you, Cara, this takes talent as well as time and determination to draw with such detail and accuracy.” Meg handed her daughter back the sketch pad.

“I have others if you'd like to see them.” Cara offered, her eyes bright.

“Yes, please.” Meg scooted over and let Cara come sit between her and Fraser. The girl flipped the nearly full pad back to the beginning. She'd sketched her friends at school, various buildings in her home town and finally a whole series of sketches from around Chicago.

Ben watched Meg as she asked Cara questions, talked about different facets of the buildings and spoke of the girl's dreams to be an artist. Part of him wondered if she wanted more children someday.

Meg saw Ben watching her with Cara, his gaze open and curious. She couldn't begin to guess what he was thinking but she knew it was something concerning her.

Cara saw the pair looking at each other, both of them starry eyed. She sat for a moment,

wondering what the deal was between them. A tap at the door interrupted the scene.

“Come in, Constable Turnbull.” Meg called in her 'Inspector' tone of voice. The junior Mountie popped his head in the door before the rest of his lanky body.

“There's a phone call for Inspector Thatcher from Ottawa.” Turnbull informed them. “That is if you are here in your official capacity, unless you aren't here in an official capacity, unless you are here in your official capacity in an unofficial capacity.” All three looked at him, confused.

“I'll take the call, Constable Turnbull.” Fraser volunteered, setting his tea aside. Both constables left the sitting room, leaving Meg and Cara alone.

“You care about Fraser, don't you.” Cara said softly, leaning back against the hunter green sofa. She watched Meg take a long drink of tea.

“Constable Fraser is someone I'm very fond of, Cara, he's been a good friend to me, especially this week. The way I feel for him, I don't want to jump into anything.” The teen could see the strain around Meg's dark eyes.

“Because of my father?” She asked softly, trying to put herself in Meg' shoes.

“Yes, partially.” Meg set her own tea aside, leaning back to take Cara's hand. “I hope you never have to find out what losing someone you love that way feels like, Cara.”

“I can understand why you'd be reluctant to fall for Constable Fraser, but Grandma says that you find more happiness when you take a chance on finding pain instead.” The teen looked her mother in the eye. She wanted the best for Meg; to see her birth mother happy.

“I had forgotten that, Mom told me that so often growing up.” Meg's voice was soft as she thought back to her own childhood.

“I think Constable Fraser would be worth taking a chance on, it's not often you get a friend like him.” Cara leaned over, nudging Meg.

“How did you get so wise so quickly?” Meg leaned over on Cara's shoulder for a moment.

“Oh, it's genetic.” Cara laughed.

“It must come from Jake's side then.” Meg laughed. It felt good to laugh, to feel the bond between mother and daughter beginning to strengthen. Meg knew these were the years that a girl needed her mother most.

_**Going Home ….** _

“Fraser, we could have arrived in Winnipeg by now by dog sled team, please, find a parking spot.” Meg was tired of being stuck in the back seat, stuck in traffic. The sooner she could go, the sooner she could return. She felt guilty about feeling that way. It made for a grumpy Inspector Thatcher.

“Yes, Sir.” Ben wove the long, dark Lincoln through traffic and into a parking spot out in the boondocks. He watched Meg take a long breath in the rear view mirror. She hadn't meant to snap at him and Ben knew it.

“We should just have time to clear our luggage through security before we board.” Meg opened her door and stepped out just as Fraser neared the door, thumping him in the chest.

“My apologies, Inspector.” He shuffled his feet backward to maintain balance.

“Fraser, you haven't done anything, why would you apologize?” Meg cocked one eye brow. “Never mind, if you wouldn't mind getting our bags?” She motioned toward the trunk.

Fraser dragged Meg's suitcase behind while Cara wore her backpack on her shoulders. They almost looked like mismatched twins walking behind, Meg in a black slacks, a lavender, ribbed turtleneck and black blazer trimmed in black satin, Cara in jeans and a sweatshirt.

Once through security they stopped off to one side of the boarding line. It was time to say good-bye.

“Thank you for everything, Constable Fraser, I'm sorry I caused you such trouble.” Cara said bashfully. She knew she had a lot of apologizing to do and trust to re-earn when she arrived home.

“Take care, Cara, it's been a pleasure to meet you.” The Mountie put his hand out for her to shake but the teen shook her head before giving him a big, quick hug. Ben hugged her back gently.

“Take care of Meg for me when she gets back to Chicago, okay.” Cara wished him, taking her ticket and boarding the plane.

“I will.” He turned to Meg, looking her in the eye as he slipped his hand around hers.

“I'll be back as soon as I can.” She squeezed his hand and looked down at their hands.

“Take your time, I know time with Cara is precious.” Ben took her hand in both of his, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

“I've been given two gifts this week, you and Cara.” Meg felt tears welling up but tried to blink them back.

“I'll be here to pick you up when you arrive.” Ben wiped a stray tear away with his thumb.

“I can't wait.” Meg shrugged, giving in and giving Ben a hug and kiss on the cheek. Overhead the announcer called all aboard. Meg pulled away and rushed to board the plane. She turned halfway through the tunnel and waved at Ben who was still standing where she'd left him.

Ben had been given a gift as well. Meg had finally let her guard down and admitted her feelings. It was the best gift she could have given him-herself.

The End


End file.
